


Ice Junkie

by OneOrganisedMess



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Androgyny, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Crush, Drug Abuse, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Heartbreak, Homophobia, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn Ish, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Yuri is 16
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-03-18 03:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13673028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOrganisedMess/pseuds/OneOrganisedMess
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky thought he was free of -ex- British Figure skater Jessie Spencer. In fact since Jessie’s sudden break from the ice 2 years previous, Yuri had hardly spared a thought for the slightly older teen; apart from to scowl -or blush- at the occasional Instagram post from the once Junior champion turned international model. Who cared if Jessie had signed with Vogue? He just scored gold! So when the charming skater appears at his home rink, Yuri is at a loss to do. He hates the boy....Right?OrYuri is a sweary almost legal teen with a ridiculously big crush on someone way out of his league (or is he?) Jessie isn’t the star everyone thinks he is, with a mounting drug problem and growing feelings for the too young Russian skater what is a guy to do?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work ever in this fandom and first time using this platform so bare with. Let's see how this goes.
> 
> [123] Any text seen within brackets as such, means the speaker is using another -usually Russian, language. I've used it to distinguish only when two or more languages are being used. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy! This is my baby be kind please!

* * *

 

Yuri was about to lose his _shit._  

He'd stumbled through the same step sequence for the _fourth_ fucking time.

Pulling out a headphone harshly with a groan Yuri blew a piece of his now slightly too long hair from his eyes, scowling at the eyes on him. Yakov’s voice practically shook the rink, his eyes set sternly on the blonde. Yuri let out another annoyed sound, flipping off the older man only to be met with increased yelling from the balding coach. Like he gave a fuck.  

Today was not the day. 

He glared pointedly at the remaining skaters, some of which seemed to enjoy his stumbles and fuck ups. It seemed he had a lot to live up to after his last performance.

Today was not the fucking day. 

Yuri hadn’t woken in a good mood and as the day continued, his mood had worn down considerably. _And rapidly._

His alarm had gone off as normal, the insistent blaring waking him from his slumber. Yuri had all but thrown the cheetah print phone in his haste to stop the piercing noise. Morning practice was _way_ too fucking early for his liking. Yuri liked his sleep, and despite his Grand Prix win a little over a month ago, Yakov was still riding his ass with early morning practices.

His alarm had worked but his fucking service was out. Just perfect. Yuri had a sinking feeling today wasn’t going to fall in his favour.

Victor had been no help when the smaller blonde asked through his fingers about his phone service- or lack of thereof. Viktor seemed to think walking around in nothing other than a silk robe was _acceptable_. Maybe it would be, if Yuri didn’t live there. He was already running late, and despite his frustration he knew his phone would have to wait .

Unable to scroll through Instagram as he ate a quick breakfast had been the cherry on the cake. Instead, he had to sit through the gag fest that was Yuuri and Victor.

Usually Yuri was glued to his phone screen and if the need called for it, could put his headphones in and ignore the two older skaters. But no, today he was blessed with an eye full, and with a groan left quickly, leaving a half eaten breakfast. 

Katsudon had arrived in Russia not long after the Grand Prix, engagement ring now matched with a ridiculously expensive wedding band. What possessed Yuri to live with the newlyweds was still lost to him. Perhaps it was because of the closeness to the Ice Rink, or maybe that he _-so far-_ didn’t need to pay rent.

Victor had practically cried when Yuri offered him money for the small spare bedroom. The newlyweds treated him like their damn child _,_ much to the annoyance of the small Russian _._ It was easier than his previous housing arrangements and apart from having to live with constant PDA from the silver haired legend and his new husband, as well as being constantly smothered by the skating duo, his small bedroom and ensuite were perfect.

Well _almost_ perfect.

A small apartment to himself would be ideal. Something open planned and artsy- he and Victor had very different tastes in decor. But at 16 he was still a minor and unless he wanted to become a ward of the state _-which he didn’t-_ and not put further strain on his grandfather, this was his only option.

He hadn’t even left Victor’s apartment 10 secondsbefore he felt his mood begin to fizzle. Yuri had found himself scowling at just about everyone and everything as he stormed towards the rink, cool winter air had bit at his cheeks as his hair blew around his face. God he needed to get it cut, he was beginning to look like _young Victor._  

Yakov had chewed his ear off after Yuri had arrived precisely 23 minutes late. So what if he stopped to get coffee? Without it he was pretty sure he’d be in an even worse state than he was currently. _If that was possible_. Yakov had ranted as Yuri slipped on his skates, tying his too long hair into a messy bun and gritting his teeth as some of the older skaters sniggered his way.

Setting a world record didn’t stop Yuri from getting a lecture from his coach, _apparently._

After concluding his lecture, a red faced Yakov sent Yuri to warm up with a less than gentle push. Only hours later, when he began to practice his sequences did Yuri notice the shift in the skating centre.

Those not skating had huddled together, eyes glued collectively to their phones, while those on the ice hit ring side. Even Mila had skated to the nearest device, bright eyes staring at the tiny screen. Yakov had dispersed the groups quickly, annoyance clear on his wide face. The old man didn’t care for laziness. Yuri couldn’t even find the energy to be intrigued, instead spitting curses at his continued mess ups.

Yakov was still shouting obscenities at the blonde as he skated rink side with a scowl, not caring for his skate guards once he reached the edge as he all but tore his custom skates off. Black hood up beneath his Russian team parker and headphones in place, he made a swift exist despite the calls that followed him.

His skating stumble and spat with Yakov pushed to the back of his mind, Yuri decided he had time to burn. 

Now grabbing his second coffee of the day, Yuri bristled silently as he sipped the hot liquid, uncaring at the slight burn that followed the strong flavour. He knew it was too early to return ‘ _home’_ and not wanting to hang out with Victor and Katsudon anymore than necessary, he decided hanging out at a cafe wasn’t an absolutely awful idea. His phone was still fucked though leaving him with little to entertain himself with.  

Instead Yuri moved to an empty window seat, quite content to spend the next hour laughing at unsuspecting people slipping on the ice outside. It was almost better than mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. Almost. Winter had hit hard and despite the warm interior of the cafe, Yuri still felt the chill nip his now exposed arms. Moscow was practically covered in 6 inches of snow this time of year.

_[“And what an incredible comeback, achieving what some assumed was the impossible, Jes-”]_

The Cafe’s numerous TV’s were drowned out as he slipped in his headphones, heavy baseline filling his ears as he continued to blow on the scorching liquid till it cooled to a comfortable temperature. 

Yuri almost dropped his cup at the demanding tap on his shoulder, removing a single headphone as he turned to the rambling figure.

[“Ugh- hey, I saw you alone and I thought maybe she’d like some company..”]

The man was close enough that Yuri could feel his body heat through his own thin t-shirt; having taken off his jacket once entering the warm cafe. Bristling slightly at his closeness Yuri turned fully and scowled at the stranger.

[“Oh shit, you’re a guy- it’s just from behind you look surprisingly-”]

[“Feminine, yeah don’t I fucking know it”]

It didn’t bother him as much as it used to, in fact it was something he used to his advantage. Being androgynous on the ice seemed to help his score. He enjoyed it, being attractive to both genders was a plus and the amount of straight guys that hit on him was _laughable_.

Despite the shock on the bothersome males face, Yuri could still see the attraction in his eyes. Smirking he leaned back in his chair, enjoying the audible gulp from the male as his top rose a little, exposing his trained muscles. Despite still being in his skating gear, leggings with a simple T combo, Yuri knew he looked hot. The baby fat of his pre teens had worn off the last year- his cheeks now boldly defined along with his jawline. Not enough to give him the masculine features of most others his age but still attractive nonetheless.

His height was still a fucking issue though. He _was_ growing, just not quick enough. 

[“Did you _want_ something?”] Yuri wanted this stranger gone, and quickly. He didn’t have time to be interested and simply didn’t want to be. Yuri couldn’t stand people on the best of days and today was not an even half good one. Fuck he _really_ needed to fix his phone.

[“Fuck they stitched me right u- I mean, _ugh-_ no sorry”] Yuri tried not to look too offended at the disgust in the guys voice. _God,_ not like Yuri wanted to fuck him anyways. The guy span on the spot and shuffled back from wherever he’d come from. Yuri followed him with his gaze, downing more of the now perfectly cooled coffee.

He frowned at the table of guys the stranger joined, watching as several laughed at who Yuri assumed was their friend as he returned to his seat. _So it was a dare._ Yuri Scoffed, _of course it was_.

Suddenly several eyes turned on him, a mix of amusement and disgust on their faces. Rolling his eyes Yuri turned back to the now slightly snow covered window, ignoring the mutterings coming from the table of college aged students as he plopped his headphones back in.

Women loved how Yuri looked, delicate and cute but to _-some-_ men and _especially_ Russian men, he knew he wasn’t particularly _liked._ To them, men were meant to be big and burley and masculine. Yuri was strong _-_ years of training hadn’t made him weak _-_ but he knew he wasn’t exactly the Russian stereotype. Hair down to his shoulder blades, 5’5 and no more than 100 pounds dripping wet, Yuri knew what men thought of him. And he knew exactly what people thought of his _sexual orientation._

Russia wasn’t _exactl_ y an advocate for gay rights.

The last time the skater went clubbing had been a clear demonstration of this. He’d shrugged off the homophobic slurs but the well aimed punch to his jaw had blindsighted him.

Yakov had hit the roof when Yuri had returned to practice the next day, hungover with a beautiful bruise blossoming across his usually pristine skin. Yakov had banned him from anymore nights out _-not that he was legal anyways-_ but Yuri had agreed.

So having a group of men glaring his way really put him on edge. They wouldn’t do anything here so he was safe as long as he stayed put. He was probably overreacting.

“You’re Yuri Plisetsky right?” The interruption came from a small girl, around his own height and Yuri relaxed slightly, removing his headphones entirely. She seemed nervous to approach but he couldn’t blame her, he wasn’t exactly know for his friendly approach with _fans_.

“The one the only” His grand prix win seemed to expand his fanbase considerably. Not as much as Victor, it seemed the retired skater couldn’t go _anywhere_ without being hassled. God, Yuri couldn’t imagine anything _worse._

“Can I get a selfie?” She asked kindly in heavily Russian accented English.

Yuri guessed one photo couldn’t harm and finished the rest of his drink before nodding at the girl. She shrieked before hugging an arm around him. Yuri fought an urge to pull away, instead half smiling as she snapped the photo, trying not to look uncomfortable at their smushed faces. _No_ , he definitely couldn’t stand being as famous as Victor.

“Thanks so much! I watched your performance in Barcelona, you were incredible! But how do you feel about Jes-” Her enthusiasm was beginning to wear on him so he gathered his things quickly, brushing off her comment as politely as he could muster. 

“-Thanks but I’ve got to go” Yuri excused himself, not caring for whatever she was rambling about. Instead he tugged on his skating parker along with his black hoodie underneath, fixing the tiger striped hood in place before making his way out into the cold. He let out a breath as he subtly gazed at the table of men, thankful their attention was no longer on him. He really didn’t want to run home.

Cursing slightly as he slipped on the compacted ice outside, Yuri fished his headphones from his jacket pocket. Not wanting to walk into the city to have his phone looked at and deciding it was late enough to return to Victor’s _-the sun already beginning to set-_ Yuri popped in his headphones as he made the swift but chilly walk back to the apartment.

His phone could wait.

He’d only just passed the threshold, stomping snow from his shoes onto the rug, before Victor pounced on him. 

[“What the fuck!”] He couldn't help swearing at the older Russian's grip. Twisting out of his arms to shrug his jacket off he glared at Victor.

“Kitten, we’ve been trying to contact you all day!” Yuri pushed passed the excited man. What was his problem? First his phone wasn’t working, he stumbled at practice because everyone was being fucking _weird_ , and then he got laughed at by a bunch of stuck up guys. Anything else and Yuri was sure he’d stab someone.

“My phone service isn’t working you idiot…” Yuri growled at Victor, collapsing over the back of one of their large white sofas with a groan.

Katsudon was sat watching the exchange with wide eyes, snuggled up on a matching chair with Makkachin draped across him, the large dog practically covering the Japanese skater.

“Oh right!” Victor scratched at his head innocently, only to practically jump at Yuri again as the younger skater reached for the TV remote.

“What is your damn problem today? You’re being weirder than usual and that’s saying a lot! I’ve had a long day and I’d prefer it if you stopped _fucking_ jumping on me!” Yuri seethed, wrestling with Victor to grab the remote from his hands. If he wanted to watch trash TV then Vitya was just going to have to fucking deal with it.

“Language…” Yuri glared over at Katsudon, his focus shifting and allowing Victor to snatch the black device from his clutches. Yuri’s hair had fallen from it’s bun, now draping around his shoulders in a hot mess. Seeing the anger in the younger skaters eyes, Victor piped up quickly.

“Something’s happened, and by your reaction I’m guessing you don’t know, or maybe you do? You’re so hard to read Kitten!”

Yuri stopped glaring at Katsudon, instead turing his fiery eyes on the silver haired skater. He _hated_ that nickname. Blowing stray hair away from his eyes, Yuri shifted to face Victor, retying his hair clumsily in frustration. 

[“You better fucking tell me what’s going on before I kill you, I’ve had a shit day old man...”]

Yuuri frowned as the blonde skater shifted to Russian, blushing at the _few_ words he understood. That boy had such a rude vocabulary. Yuri didn’t care as Victor frowned, he’d had enough. What could possibly be so important? _And why the hell couldn’t he watch the TV?_   

[“Don’t freak out Kitten..”] Yuri frowned at the nervous Russian, watching as he fiddled with the remote between long fingers. Did this have anything to do with whatever everyone was so interested in today at the rink? Yuri froze, a million thoughts rushing through his head.

[“Have the ISU _dropped_ me?”]

Yuri couldn’t understand why that would be, he hadn’t even done anything wrong! Surely Yakov would have known and told him something, or maybe he’d lost a sponsor? But he wasn’t sure why that would be national news. Frowning he realised he hadn’t actually checked the news since last night.

[“ _No!_ No of course not, it’s something a little more...personal _”_ ] Yuri let out a breath.

“Umm.. can you speak in English please? Unless you’d like me permanently speaking Japanese” Katsudon asked quietly from his perch, watching the two Russians speaking quickly with confusion.

Looking guilty Victor nodded his head apologetically and Yuri gagged as the skater kissed his husband softly. Parental PDA was grim.

“I think it’s best if I just show you, but promise you won’t break anything? These are new furnishings!" 

 _“What?”_ Yuri was seeing red.

“Just promise” 

“Yeah whatever old man just fucking show me” Yuri bit out, not caring at the wince from the other Yuuri at his language.

He wasn’t going to change for anyone, especially not Pork Cutlet Bowl. Yuuri was too damn sensitive anyways. He watched as Victor flicked on the widescreen, shuffling through the channels swiftly and suddenly Yuri felt his nerves rise slightly.  _If he wasn’t kicked from skating what could be so bad?_ Victor hesitated before selecting the news channel, sea blue eyes peering nervously between his husband, who was hiding slightly behind Makkachin, and the angry eyes of the younger Russian. Yuri looked and felt ready to combust, could this day get any worse?

 _Yes._ It totally could.

 _[“-back to our main sporting story of the night. Former UK National champion, 3 time Junior World and Junior grand Prix figure skater champion Jessie Spencer has seemingly ended his early retirement. The Olympic silver medal holder and rising star shocked the world with his sudden retirement. Spencer has spent the last two years with several large fashion brands, seemingly having shifted his sporting career to modelling after landing brand deals with the likes of Burberry and most recently the iconic cover of Vogue. However the 18 year old dual English and Russian national seems to have re-emerged into the figure skating with quite the performance at his national championships, landing the legendary and never executed quadruple axel, which requires a skat-”\_  

The Russian reporter continued but Yuri simply stared blankly at the screen, trying hard to ignore the images of the British skater as they filtered across the screen. _Fuck._

_Fuck._

His breathing picked up on its own accord, a tightening across his chest that he didn’t realise was happening and _fuck,_ Yuri couldn’t breath. His eyes felt blurry and he grabbed at his chest painfully trying to force himself to breath. Why couldn’t he fucking breath? He barely felt a concerned Victor and Yuuri at his sides, the older skater rubbing his back encouragingly while Yuuri leant back to give the young skater space.

Closing his eyes Yuri breathed deeply, concentrating on the surprisingly comforting hand on his back, timing his breath with the older Russians until the burning sensation evaporated and he could breath in a lungful of needed air.

[“That’s it Kitten, nice and deep now- like me, in and out”] Victor was trying to help _-and Yuri would admit it helped slightly-_ but his pride flared suddenly. Yuri Plisetsky wasn’t _weak._ With anger rolling from him in waves, he pushed Viktor away, bringing his legs to his chest on the sofa protectively. He couldn’t believe he’d just had a near enough damn panic attack about _Jessie Spencer._ He was stronger than this.

“A Quad Axel…” Yuri glared as the words slipped from Katsudon -who shrank back at the gaze of the Russian Tiger on him.

Even in his anger, Yuri was wondering the same thing. A Quad Axle was near enough impossible, even Victor _fucking_ Nikiforov couldn’t land a Quad Axel. Four and a quarter spins mid air is inhuman.

And yet Jessie Spencer had apparently landed it after a 2 year absence from the ice.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri is an Instagram stalker and Jessie has some shitty parents!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short I apologise as I've been hungover for like a week. Gonna try and upload as often as possible (I already have several chapters written I just have to edit them) but at the minimum once a week -maybe a Friday?
> 
> Warnings: this chapter contains slight parental abuse (I say slight because Jessie- in his own mind, is a grown man and has never liked his father so it's like two random men fighting)

* * *

  
He _wasn’t_ going to watch it. He really wasn’t.

But then again had Jessie even really done it? Yuri was dubious. If Victor couldn’t do it then there was _no_ way in hell that the British skater could have done it. Moves like that took years of practice and the older teen hadn't exactly been hitting the ice much lately- or as far as Yuri knew. Not that he cared either way.

Like he said. He wasn’t going to watch it.

His phone's service had _finally_ returned early into the night, a text from his service provider apologising for the technical difficulty. Yuri wasn’t sure if he was thankful or not for the sudden return of his services, fidgeting hands quickly logging onto all his social media. Instagram was a favourite, he'd amassed a decent sized following compared to his fellow skaters. Occasionally Yuri would rant on twitter -but Instagram was his go to.

Yuri rolled his eyes, the young fan from the Cafe had tagged him in a photo. He scowled at the cat ears edited onto the picture - _typical-_  give it a few hours and his _'Angels'_ would be all over it. Having exhausted his feed, Yuri paused as his finger hovered over the explore button, war raging internally. As much as the petite blonde would deny it, he really was _intrigued._

Before he could decide otherwise, Yuri began searching for the older skater. His recent search came up straight away and Yuri blushed angrily. _Fine,_  so he _occasionally_ stalked the older skaters page under the guise that he enjoyed the brand promotions. It had _nothing_ to do with the handsome skater who _used_ to be his somewhat friend -fuck if you could call it friendship _._ As the page loaded he held his breath, eyes flicking to the topless icon briefly before green eyes settled on the latest post. Jessie had a decent sized following, way over Yuri’s own despite his vigorous fanbase. And yet, as Yuri clicked on the video, his eyes widened at the hits already amassed.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

Yuri scowled at the familiar likes while rolling his eyes at the caption. While at one point the English skater had been incredible on the ice -maybe even the best in the junior devision until Yuri had come along and dethroned the king spectacularly, he had never been one to rub his wins in. And Yuri hated him all the more for it. Fuck, even when the older skater had lost before his retirement, he'd taken it with that stupid half smile of his, brushing it off as if Yuri hadn't just ended his two year consecutive Junior Grand Prix streak. Jessie was always so calm, _so elegant_ , on _and_ off the ice. Sure, Yuri could be as graceful as a fucking swan  _on the ice_ , but off it? Not so much. He was fiery and short tempered, he bathed in his wins -and despised his losses. Jessie never seemed to be affected by  _anything._

Even now, as Yuri watched the short clip- from Jessie's free program if Yuri hazarded a guess or maybe an exhibition piece?- he scowled at the calmness emitting from dark haired skater. It was less than 10 seconds -simply a cut down clip of the Quad jump, and Yuri’s eyes widened. Unable to stop himself Yuri gazed impressively as the tall dark haired skater jumped from his forward edge in what was undeniably a Quad axel.

 _Fuck-_ Victor really wasn't lying. 

It wasn't perfect. The skater had wobbled slightly, hand almost grazing the ice as he landed, whether from exhaustion _-_ he didn’t know what half of the Free skate Jessie was doing it in _,_ or unbalance from spinning as many times. He was only glad that the skater hadn’t executed it perfectly. True to his ways however, Jessie righted himself without a glimmer of concern crossing his sharp face, the camera capturing surprisingly bright blue eyes before the clip ended. Yuri hated the sudden want to see  _more_ of the performance. 

Instead, and despite his better judgment, Yuri continued to scroll through Jessie’s page, a frown growing between his brows at the content. Jessie’s return to skating seemed to come from nowhere. His page was filled entirely with professional photos and _glaringly_ obvious promo shit, but nothing giving an inkling that the once Junior champion was returning to the ice. Although, the page seemed entirely impersonal, offering the solution that maybe Jessie didn't have full control over the account. Maybe his brand contracts limited his online presence to what they wanted? _So..._ maybe Jessie's return had thrown them for a loop also.

Yuri couldn’t deny the other skater was attractive. Hell, he’d always been attractive, even when they were just kids. Jessie was tall - well _everyone_ was tall compared to the Russian Fairy, but he'd say Jessie was excessively fucking tall. Not that he was equally broad, rather surprisingly slender for someone of that height. Yuri guessed despite leaving the sport, Jessie's second career still required him to be in shape. Gone was the long hair that Yuri had known the other skater for, in favour of a short look that despite his annoyance, he couldn’t deny looked hot. Long hair on top that favoured falling to the right of his face in soft waves with a closely cut but not entirely shaved undercut. Yuri Scoffed, of course Jessie had to be his ideal type. More casual posts -not that there were many of them, showed Jessie to have numerous piercings. A tasteful mix of helix rings and studs dotted along pale ears matched the several piercings that he himself had. Yakov had thrown a fit at his first double helix piercing. Not that it later stopped him from getting both tragus' done. 

If his coach knew he wanted to get his nipples done, Yuri was sure the old man would have a near enough cardiac arrest.

Stretching slightly, shoulders having cramped from the position on his side Yuri rolled lazily onto his stomach, sock covered feet dangling in the air as he scrolled further down Jessie’s page. He purposely avoided ogling the several shots of the model. God did this guy own a fucking shirt? Surely his brands wanted to see their products on the guy? Not fucking off of him. His annoyance grew as his phone lagged, page freezing mid scroll.

“ _For fucks sake!_ ”

“Language Piletsky…” He couldn’t tell whether it was Katsudon or Victor but either way, flipped the voice off despite the door separating them -without moving his eyes from the frozen app. He was constantly scolded like a damn child for his language and really, he didn’t even curse _that much._ Frustration growing behind his eyes Yuri swore mentally, haphazardly tapping on the frozen screen. God he really didn't want to get a new phone, couldn't even _afford_ one if he wanted to.

The screen flashed oddly before righting itself and he could only watch in horror as his previous tapping liked a random photo, the heart icon turing a taunting red as he stared with wide eyes at the screen. He’d like one of Jessie’s photos. _Fucking liked one._ He didn’t even follow the English skater. And not just any _-oh no-_ whatever God existed really wanted to stomp and shit on him today. 

Even being on the skaters page was bad -he was already scolding himself for being so damn stupid, liking a picture was very dangerous territory, but liking an _87 week old post was life ending._  

“Fuck!” He launched the offending device across the room as two voices shouted through his door.

“Yuri ** _language_!”**

* * *

 

Lazily staring at the reporters behind dark lenses, Jessie glared their way as his manager battled with the ambush of questions. Despite his hidden gaze he fought the urge to roll his cerulean eyes as he stretched boredly in his chair. He’d expected this. Hell he knew what he was signing up for when he landed that 4 and a ¼ turn jump, it didn’t mean he had to like it.

He almost felt bad for the 3 other skaters sat along the winner’s panel. He hadn’t even competed for a medal, his performance was an exhibition piece and yet Jessie - or as of right now his manager, was receiving the majority of questions.

Despite not placing, the NISA -National Ice skating Association of Great Britain- had practically shoved Jessie towards the reporters, thankful that their _‘star’_ had returned. But really, he couldn’t blame them. The UK while not terrible, didn’t tend to place in international competitions often. His 4 years of junior competitions _-including the olympics-_ were the NISA’s only time to place in the big leagues in years. And this, he was going to use to his advantage. He didn’t have the time or energy to work back up the UK leagues, he needed to be invited to the competitions rather than earn it. And after that Quad axel, although not as polished as he would have liked, Jessie knew he wasn’t about to be short of invitations to international events.

 _Hell,_ people _love_ a good come back story.

“Will you be attending the European Championships?” He noted this question was aimed at him and not his rather frazzled manager. Deciding to help him out despite not exactly getting on with the aging manager, Jessie turned to the reporter, slipping off his sunglasses as he faced him. He wasn't known for rudeness after all.

 No, Jessie Spencer was a squeaky clean shinning star. What a fucking joke _that was._  If they only knew.

“Most likely, my main goal is Worlds and I know even after my performance today I’ll _at least_ need one championship under my belt to qualify for World's” The reporter was cute, a short blonde with a thin but toned figure. He was glaringly Jessie's _type._ He sent him a dazzling smile and proudly watched the delicate blush spread across slightly freckled cheeks. Distracting himself the reporter busied himself with his notes, scribbling something down before brown eyes met striking blue and he asked another question, pushing his blonde hair behind his ears nervously.

“Um- do you - wait sorry..” Jessie smirked to himself as the timid looking man stumbled slightly under his gaze. He looked young -obviously older than Jessie, but clearly no older than 25 _at least._  Dark eyes and curly blonde locks. Jessie was definitely going to **have** this blushing reporter. The man in question quickly looked at his notes before breathing deeply and attempting his previous question. 

“After a 2 year break, do you think the ISU will allow you to compete straight away?”

“Truthfully, it’s up to the the UK federation to decide who they send, and it’s not always based on national standings. Of course I will understand if they choose to send another, as I know we only have one slot, but I think we all know I’m the best shot for the UK getting on the podium...” At this, he could feel the glares of the other skaters heatedly turned his way -as well as a silent scowl from his manager, but he ignored them. If they thought him arrogant that was their problem. He wasn’t lying, he _was_ the best option. Today had only been an exhibition and yet -if it had been scored, he would have placed gold. _Easily._ He wasn't cocky -just honest. 

“What is the motivation behind your sudden return to skating? It was reported that you had just won another year contract with Marc Jacobs among other clothing and sporting brands” It was another reporter but Jessie kept his gaze on the young looking blonde, signature smirk on his lips. He really was cute. A less than gentle stab to his ribs had Jessie grunting and he glared at his manger before unwillingly facing the other reporter.

It was decided. He’d approach the blonde after the media session was over. God knows how long it had been since he'd had a good  _fuck._ The petite reporter was practically begging for it.

“I **_was_ ** offered another contract -but I turned it down in favour of returning to the ice. I’ll continue being the face of Burberry until my contract runs out in mid spring and while my return may seem sudden I’ve actually been planning to return since my birthday. A number of the brands I'm an ambassador for have agreed to become sponsors in return for my continued support, the last two years have been _a learning experience_ to say the least and I’m totally _thankful_ for the opportunities -but the call to return was too strong for me to ignore”

It was as close to the truth as he was willing to say.

Modelling for big brands had come at a price and his unhealthy coke habit was something he was determined to break. _Eventually._ At 16 he took his first narcotic. Not the type of drugs that were done with friends in a parent’s basement. _No_ , his first substance was a fat line of powder in a dressing room, sitting there innocently like a fucking fruit basket. He’d laughed nervously as he did it, running his tongue along his numbing front teeth as it filtered through his body. It was normal right? It was expected of him?  

The pills filtered through soon after.

He popped Xanax like it was paracetamol. His relationship with Modafinil was complicated. Coke was a constant and _fuck_ he sprinkled that shit on his breakfast like sugar. Clubbing wasn't without a dabble of K or Mandy. He'd turned 17 practically a walking pharmaceutical and 18 practically a corpse.His 18th birthday ended in an unknown penthouse with a near enough overdose. He had overdosed on his own. _Alone._ So fucking alone. He wanted rehab. Too bad nobody else did.

His manager had said Jessie didn’t have the _time_ for it, his brands threatened to drop him and his parents? Couldn’t have cared less. As long as he looked goodnobody gave a fuck about him. 

He watched as the reporters seemed to remember the _actual_ champions to his right. Their questions were less enthusiastic and before long attention was back on him. 

“Will you be returning to the Junior division?” Juniors ended at 19 so the choice was still available. If he wanted to. 

But he didn’t.  

“It would be unfair if I continued in the Junior division, and now that the great Victor Nikiforov has moved his hand to coaching, I believe I have a strong chance at gold”  

“Russian skater _Yuri Plisetsky_ recently set a new world record in his short program, do you really believe you can out skate this rising star. He’s been compared to Nikiforov-” Jessie _used_ to be the rising star.

And like a switch his mood turned swiftly, usual smirk dropping to a frown paired with a scowl on his brows -the reporters watching confused as the newly reemerged star stood quickly, annoyance clear as day across the brunettes face.

“Questions are over” Voices rose as numerous protests from the reporters met his ears. Security swiftly settled the crowd while the remaining skaters were ecstatic at his departure. The crowds loved him -and the fans, but his fellow skaters? Not so much. In fact those he'd consider to be his friends weren't even in the same country as him. 

Ignoring several microphones shoved harshly in his direction, Jessie gestured with his head to the dainty reporter hoping the blonde would understand, before slipping sunglasses back over his eyes. The once familiar uproar followed as he exited the stage -he had been the best in Juniors at one point, and he squinted as cameras flashed his way uncaring of his personal space. He ignored it all, thankful for once as his manger cut the reporters off. 

They made it to the car quickly. All  _three_ of them. 

In his defence, Jessie's manager pointedly ignored the moans from the backseat, eyes instead trained harshly on the darkening road ahead. It wasn't the first time -when it had, the elderly manager had almost crashed the car. But no, he simply ignored his clients  _activities._

Long ring covered fingers tangled in light blonde hair as the reporter -whose name Jessie had already forgotten, bobbed expertly along his pulsing member, hands grasping at the exposed base. For someone who said they’d _‘never done something like this before’_ the boy was _extremely_ good with his mouth.

Jessie was going to enjoy fucking him.

* * *

 

“Why the fuck are you leaving one pansy career only to fuck right back to _girly ballet!”_

Mr Spencer was a ruthless man at the _best of times_. An intimidating height, wide strong shoulders -shoulders of a man who’d come from nothing and built his way up. Mr Spencer hadn’t got where he was by being _considerate_ of others and held an unfortunate tendency to blurt whatever briefed his small minded brain in the moment. Loud and brash, a literal bull in a china shop was the best way to describe his father in regards to his people skills.

“It’s called **figure skating** and you bloody know it” The vein twitched beside his father's right eye. Gregory Spencer was furious.

“I’d watch that tone _boy_ ” 

His mother would be no help. Sat across from them, slender figure perched on a ridiculously expensive love seat, vacant eyes staring between her son and husband before flicking back to her slim phone. Anya Spencer cared almost less about him than his father did. Gregory enjoyed picking Jessie's faults _-_ to the large male his son’s modelling career was _almost_ as bad as his sexual preferences, where as his mother avoided contact at all costs. Jessie was lucky if he got two words out of the Russian Duchess.

Fuck, he'd thought his fucking _nanny_ was his mother until he was 6 years old. His childhood was far from ordinary. Sure he had everything a child could want- the Spencer's weren't short of money nor influence. But unsurprisingly Jessie hadn't lived up to his parents expectations. As if anyone fucking could. Once he'd realised that, he'd stopped trying to be their impossible perfect son.  

“I thought you’d be happy I was moving on from modeling, _father”_ Jessie bit out the words, fighting the urge to flinch back from the large dark haired man. He _really_ didn’t want another bruised jaw. 

“ **I am!** But I thought you’d finally wanted to take up a position at the company! Jessie, graduates would _kill_ for the position I’m offering you”

“Oh yes, because I _totally_ have the look of a city businessman…” Still not looking up his mother tutted from her spot, still flicking through her phone.

“A good _steady_ job could sort you out _son,_ put you on the _straight_ and narrow”

“So that’s it! I almost forgot you hate that I fuck men _-_ ”

He’d expected the blow but _damn_ did it hurt like a bitch. He couldn’t feel any loose teeth, _thank god,_ but copper liquid was still pooling in his mouth. He’d probably bit his mouth, Gregory’s fist having landed just above his chin. His lip stung and even without licking it he knew it was split. It wasn't the first time, far from it, that his father laid hands on him. The senior Spencer had said it would build character -make him strong, although he doubted there had been any fairness in someone of his father's stature beating down on a 40 pound 8 year old. 

“You’re _cut off,_ I won’t have you sponging on my hard earned money any longer-” It was a bold faced lie, Jessie had his own damn money. But to be honest, Jessie was surprised it had taken this long.

“-I don’t want to see your face unless you’re crawling back on your fucking knees ready to take up my offer!”

Hell would freeze over before he'd beg his father for  _anything._

Jessie watched with darkening eyes as his father strode from the room, the animosity ebbing away as his large presence drifted from view. Only when he was sure his father was gone did he allow the wince to spread on his face, blood now dripping from his lip onto the Persian rug below.

“Don’t ruin rug”

It wasn’t necessarily harsh -his mothers accent had diluted over the years spent with his father, but it still surprised him. Her words were still heavy and tended to roll, not that he heard her talk very often nowadays. He used to enjoy the off occasion that his parents would argue. Anya was the only person Jessie had ever seen his father bow to.  

He'd had a temper, with parent's like his it would have been a surprise if he hadn't inherited such a fiery personality. However unlike his father, Jessie had the patience of his mother, the ability to keep a neutral face,  _usually._ He’d also gotten most of his looks from her, perhaps only inheriting Gregory’s jawline and height, while hair and eyes belonged solely to the Russian Duchess. She was his clearly his mother, yet Anya had always lacked the maternal instinct that was meant to develop at birth. He'd been handed off to a nanny at the first possible chance.

“I’m leaving” As expected it was met with no protest.

Instead he grabbed the few items he’d brought into the family home, while trying not to cringe in disgust as he wiped the blood from his lips, swallowing the pooling liquid in his mouth. He didn’t spare a look for his mother, didn’t pause at the sound of his father on the phone.

 ** _No,_ ** Jessie simply slammed the door behind him as he jogged down the stone steps towards his car. If they didn’t want him then so be it. He hadn’t needed them for years, hadn’t needed them the moment his young feet had hit the ice. And when he _had_ needed them, they were nowhere to be found. If his near death didn’t make his parents care, nothing would. 

They wanted him out of their fucking hair? He’d be out of the country before the day end.

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessie moves to Moscow and Yuri is not too happy about it? Or is he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel like their relationship went form 0 to 100 real quick. Just keep in mind that Yuri has always admired (crushed on) Jessie, he's just refused to accept it.

 

* * *

 

Being ‘cut off’ it seemed, had been extended to the Spencer properties as well.

The last minute flight had been easy, Jessie had wracked up enough air miles over the years after all. As an afterthought he’d called his manager before boarding the late night flight, rolling his eyes at the stern words flowing from the other end of the phone. Robert was his sixth manager in 2 years and so far the longest lasting.

He'd had so many for a reason. Jessie didn’t do well with authority. Even if said authorities job was to look after him. He'd spent so much of his life being sole dependant, the thought of another interfering with his choice set him on edge. Hence the several mangers he'd burnt through. Relationships were never his strong point.

After his lecture, Robert had thankfully promised to sort out a temporary apartment in central, as well as scheduling the rest of Jessie’s belongings -not that he actually owned much, to be shipped out the following morning. For once his manager had actually been  _helpful._ That made firing him all the more harder. 

He'd almost winced when he fired the poor man, mentioning it in passing comment. He ended the phone call before any argument could be heard, instead sending off a quick email detailing an end of contract to Robert. It wasn’t the older man’s fault, but Jessie needed a clean slate and honestly if he put Robert through anymore _situations_ like his 18th birthday he was sure he would actually keel over of a heart attack.

No he needed to do this on his own. Well almost alone. Before leaving he'd contacted the one woman he felt was practically family.

Lilia Baranovskaya was a stern faced woman and a childhood friend of his mother. They’d both pushed him to the ballet -the most interest his mother had ever taken with him, but his young self had taken one look at the ice and fallen in love. There was just something so dangerous about skating, and at the tender age of 6 he’d been bought his first pair of skates. Figure skating was a compromise his mother was willing to take and Lilia had introduced him to her husband quickly. It had gone from there. He’d switched between London -skating at Alexandra Palace- and Moscow.    

Despite it’s obvious faults, he'd always prefer Moscow.

The apartment was small, open plan, but with an odd charm that his father’s modern minimalist flat lacked. It was modest in comparison. A studio apartment with an assortment of already placed furniture -none of it matching, giving it a cosy feel that he didn’t altogether hate- with a double floor level bed on the right hand side. Three steel double windows filled the airy space with natural light, the light pouring in despite the slightly overcast morning. To the left was a small kitchenette that worked surprisingly well with the industrial theme of the entire room. Walking in Jessie paused, scanning the room. There was no TV? The only sofa in the room was facing the low rise bed. Only when his eyes flicked slightly higher did it click. A modern looking projector hung slightly down, aimed at the white wall above what was now, his bed. So he did have a TV.

He scoffed, not like he had anyone to binge watch Netflix with.

He rolled in his suitcases, heavy door slamming behind as he shuffled fully in. Giving the room one more sweep with his eyes Jessie chucked his rucksack on the bed. He flicked through his phone -now removing airplane mode, rolling his eyes as his father’s name lit up the screen.

[ ](https://ibb.co/iOPKAx)

_Charming._ His father really did have a way with words. It wasn’t even about the money, it was his father's pride. Fuck -if Gregory thought he could cut every known tie with him, Jessie was adamant he would do it. Anyways, if he got _desperate_ he could always sell his Maserati. However, he'd have to be on _really_ hard times for that to happen. As it stood, he could return to modelling as a last resort, but it really would be that. An absolute last resort.

The second text was from Lilia.

[ ](https://ibb.co/jtpsSc)

_Blunt as always._ He smirked before pulling out his charger and plugging his phone in. His Instagram notifications could wait.  

If he had any chance at Euros in less than a month, he needed to train. A Quad Axel didn’t guarantee a win, and despite Euros being easier than 4 Continents -or at least in his mind, he still needed to work hard. Skaters don’t just come back from a two year break and win straight golds. Lilia was right. He _needed_ to prove his worth.

Mid-unpacking his phone buzzed, black case vibrating against the bedside table. Despite the 5 hour flight and the near enough no sleep, Jessie felt energised. Energised enough to almost unpack both the suitcases he’d hastily packed. Standing swiftly he walked towards his phone, placing the near empty beer bottle in his hand on the coffee table. 11am may be early to drink but _fuck_ did he need it. 

Plus he needed to be clean if he was to start skating, and if that meant having a drink in place of a half of something much stronger, then so be it.  

It was Yakov, agreeing on practice tomorrow morning, but that wasn’t what made his stomach drop. Wasn’t what made him sit back suddenly onto the low bed behind him, clutching his phone with a frown as his finger hovered over the screen.

_yuri_pilsetsky liked your photo._

_What the actual fuck?_

* * *

Yuri hadn’t touched his phone since ruining his social life with a single _like_ , instead choosing to wallow in his self pity while curling up to binge watch Netflix. He’d woken with a stiff neck and his phone blaring. He didn’t even think twice as he hit the snooze button. The world could fucking wait.

Swatting like a cat at the finger in his face he growled, blinking rapidly at the figure hovering over his bed. Blurry images filtered together before he let out a groan as his eyes finally opened, green eyes settling on blue framed glasses and messy dark hair.

“The fuck do you want piggy, don’t you have Victor’s _dick_ to be sucking?” The Japanese skater blushed fiercely. _God he was such a prude._

“Yu- _rio_! W-atch your language-please?” It came out more of a question, his blush darkening further as he pushed up his glasses. Yuri really did enjoy winding him up. 

“God what do you even want?” Even as he said it, Yuri twisted further into his double bed pulling his tiger print comforter higher until his blonde hair was hidden entirely from view. Nothing and nobody was getting him out of this fortress of warmth.

“Well I just thought you’d like to be woken up…”

“Why the hell would you think that? Who actually enjoys waking up?” His words were slightly mumbled under the fabric and he groaned as he stretched. Yep. He wasn't moving anytime soon.

“Well it’s 11:30 and-”

 _“What!”_ Yuri rolled suddenly, jumping from the bed only to crumple to the floor as a foot caught the edge of his covers, landing him in a painful jumble at Yuuri’s feet. Okay so maybe that could get him moving.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier Piggy?!” With a groan he finally managed to untangle himself enough to push passed a shocked Yuuri hastily. He headed to his adjoined bathroom briskly. Fuck Yakov was going to _murder_ him. String him up and _fucking gut him!_ The old coach hated tardiness even more so than laziness.

“Because you looked _too_ cute kitten!”

“Piss  _off_ Nikiforov” _Fuck he was so late!_

“That’s Nikiforov- _Katsuki_ to you _kotyonok_ ” Yuuri blushed further.

With a growl Yuri slammed his ensuite door, running a frantic hand through his hair before jumping into the shower. In no time at all he was hastily dressing -not even sparing a look at food as he all but sprinted to the rink, curses tumbling from his lips with every footfall. He was never _this_ late. The usual 20 minute walk turned into a 7 minute sprint. He’d even managed to forget a hair tie in his haste, blonde strands now blowing in a mess as he climbed the rink steps slightly winded. Fucking fantastic.

Taking a moment to breath and calm his beating heart, he tried unsuccessfully to cool his heated cheeks, shifting his jacket uncomfortably at the perspiration now glistening his skin. He breathed in deeply, before exhaling as he pushed through the heavy door to the cool air of the ice rink. Loose hair stuck grimly to his sweaty neck.

“There he fucking is... ** _Yura get over her_ _e_!** ”

Yakov’s tone was enough to cool the sweat on his neck, back going rigid as he made his way over to the red faced coach. With eyes on his black leopard print sneakers Yuri didn’t see the body stood before him until his much smaller frame rammed into it, head knocked back from the force. 

“ _ **Fucking watch it-**_ ” 

Yuri choked on the rest of his insult, the familiar curses trapped in his throat as his eyes landed on the boy - _man,_  before him. Smiling blue eyes shone down from the towering teen, meeting his wide emerald gaze with a steady stare. _It couldn't be._

“You ran into me  _kid"_  

Yuri flushed. With anger, or was it embarrassment? Maybe sheer shock. He wasn’t sure. However what he was _damn sure_ of - _an undeniable fact-_  was that Jessie fucking Spencer was stood toe to toe with him, lazy smirk lying on perfect lips that had Yuri clenching his fist. God he wanted to knock that stupid smile off his face. Auto-pilot kicked in and he found himself slipping into defensive mode, a common occurrence for the tiny blonde.

“What are you doing here? Yakov what the fuck is pretty boy doing here?” In order for his words to reach the balding man, Yuri side stepped Jessie’s height with a scowl. 

“You think I’m pretty?” He wanted to justify himself -that it was an insulting term for Jessie's modelling career, however he chose not to dignify the tall skater with an answer. 

Instead he set his burning glare Yakov, thoughts whirling a mile a minute as the rounded slightly out of breath man reached the pair.  

“Yura you’re four hours late! Not what I expect of my _star skater”_ Because **_that_ ** was the main issue apparently. And not the smiling brunette stood distractingly between them, who was casually gazing Yuri’s way as if he absolutely belonged there. _In Yuri’s Ice Rink_. **_In his fucking country._**

“What is - ** _he_ ** doing here?” Yuri fought the urge to scream, hiding his reddening face behind a curtain of blonde locks.

“Showing up on time that’s what he’s doing! Spencer has been here since _6am!_ The boy’s been in the country less than a day for Christ's sake. He’s training here until Euros- _at least-_ so don’t give me that look Yura, it’s not up for discussion!” 

“Doesn’t he have his own rink, you know, in his own fucking country” Yuri continued to address his coach and his coach only. As far as he cared, the English skater was irrelevant.

“You’re a GP winner, act like one and not a child-” That hurt but Yuri didn’t show it “-besides you used to be rink mates and  _friends”_

Yeah, _used to be._

“Now Plisetsky, get changed and hit the ice -and _thats an_ _**order**_ ” 

* * *

People seemed to gravitate towards the new dark haired skater- a multitude of eyes turned his way as the older teen practiced his sequences, as if waiting for Jessie to perform his newest infamous move. And despite himself, Yuri too found himself occasionally sparing a glance for the blue eyed boy as he practiced his own step sequences towards the other end of the rink. As far from Jessie as he could physically be. Jessie was so graceful it bothered Yuri _to no end._ Even the brunette's messy top knot seemed fucking elegant.

It was Yakov’s summer camp, near enough 5 years ago, that Yuri had first met _him_.

Yuri had excelled -small slender body designed it seemed, for ballet. Jessie was equally graceful, in his own _unique_  way. The dark haired boy had been one to watch, and Yuri had done just that. It had taken no longer than a week for his younger self to become infatuated with the slightly older skater.  _He'd wanted to be just like him._

[“ ** _Yuri!_ ** That last spin had an under-rotation of more than _half-_ and don’t get me started on your edges!”]

Fuck. That would cost him major points in competition. The blush across his cheeks was from his exertion and frustration; not embarrassment. However Yuri still shook his hair -enough to hide the flaming cheeks, as he nodded silently. He’d hit his mark this time he was sure, Yuri Plisetsky wasn’t one to fucking _under-rotate_ damn it, he was a fucking GP winn-

“Yakov’s wrong. It would be a downgraded jump, not an under-rotation” Yuri didn’t have to look up to know the boy -or man, behind the voice. 

“Fuck _off_ ” 

“I’m trying to help Yura-”

“Don’t-”

Jessie had removed the parker he’d donned a few hours before. Instead the tall skater now wore a slightly dampened sleeveless tank top paired with simple tracksuit bottoms, a red and white logo running along the side, the ends slightly rolled as they hit his white skates. Jessie looked effortless, only a slight reddening of his pale cheeks to show for his hours skating. His bottom lip looked slightly bruised and if he cared enough he would have asked. But he didn't. 

“- _don’t_ call me that”

“Well what should I call you then? You heard Yakov -I’m here to stay _princess,_ whether you like it or not”

Instead of retorting the blonde simply skated rink side- mindfully avoiding their coaches gaze. Yakov however was busy with Mila, voice echoing across the ice loudly. Yuri paid no mind to either his coach nor the attractive skater, ignoring the brunette trailing his movement.

Did he say attractive? He meant irritating. _Infuriating_ actually. 

Irritating or not Yuri ignored him all the same. Once off the ice he cursed as the dark haired skater followed suit, removing his skates entirely instead of putting covers on like Yuri had. Yuri breathed a sigh of relief as he lost the taller skater in the large changing rooms. It was well beyond an acceptable time to leave - and Yakov be damned, he fucking wanted to go home.  

Yakov was shouting his way but Yuri ignored the aging man -as well as the eyes of his peers as he shuffled from the rink, headphones plopped haphazardly in his ears. Despite his better judgment he indulged a final look round the rink, unconsciously looking for dark hair and bare arms. Why the fuck he was doing that he didn’t know. Not knowing to be happy or not at the absence of the British skater he grunted a goodbye to a wide eyed Mila in passing before rushing towards the cool afternoon air.

Today had been a write off. If he didn’t start nailing both his short and free skates soon, Yakov was going to have his head. And yet his biggest distraction had seemingly jumped right from his Instagram feed into his everyday life. Because there was no denying it, Jessie Spencer was his biggest distraction. And his biggest competition. How the fuck was he meant to _beat_ him? Jessie has won almost as many championships as he had, not even counting his _Olympic_ Silver win! Despite what the media were saying _-a two year break is too long for a successful sporting return-_ Yuri was worried. Fucking worried.

Because nobody returns to the ice and nails a move like a Quad Axel. 

Headphones in place and baseline blaring, Yuri stepped into the now thinning parking lot, the cold biting slightly at his barely covered arms and a thick layer of snow now gracing the ground. A parker-hoodie combination was not suitable for the plunging Russian climate. He really should have listened to the lecture by Katsudon. Instead he wrapped gloveless hands around his Russian team jacket, rubbing circles in an effort to retain the heat from the Ice rink. How ridiculous, the Ice rink being warmer than the outside air.

Despite the loud beat of his music, Yuri flinched at the groan of an engine to his right, feet slipping slightly in fright on the ice below as a white SUV pulled alongside. As one tinted window rolled down, he tried hard to suppress the growl in his throat

“Again, fuck _off”_

Jessie didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Yuri copied the sea blue gaze, glaring heatedly back at its owner while trying hard to ignore the cold biting at his thin leggings and fighting the urge to lean closer to the opened window of hot air exiting the expensive car. 

“Spencer, _what the fuck do you want?”_ He really needed to get moving if he wanted his toes to work for practice tomorrow.

“Get in” Yuri wasn’t expecting that. 

“ _-what?_ ” He flushed at the high pitch tone of his voice. 

“Yura, get in the fucking car” There it was again.

“Don’t call me _that-”_

“Yes alright I get it, we’re not friends -you can’t stand me, _I know._ You’ve made that pretty fucking obvious kid” Yuri held his tongue at the nickname.

“But it’s hitting the minuses and I have a car. It would be cruel not to offer a lift so for once can you not be so thick headed and accept help when it’s offered to you? You were never this stubborn as a kid, if I remember correctly you used to follow me around like a lost puppy-”

“Would it shut you up if I got in your ridiculously over the top car?” Why did one person even need an SUV? He could fit at least 7 people in this fucking monstrosity. Plus he'd hoped the older skater would have forgotten about his stupid childhood crush. Apparently not. 

Jessie smiled widely at the shivering youth as he leaned over to open the passenger door, shit-eating smile still firmly in place as the short blonde settled into the plush leather beneath. Yuri hated to admit it but he was thankful for the ride. Not that he would ever give an inkling of this to the older skater. He ignored the chuckle from the dark haired teen as he all but groaned as the seat beneath warmed comfortably.

“Warmed up yet?” They’d pulled onto the main stretch of road now, the new smelling car racing easily between slower more run down vehicles.

“Sort of...” Yuri was still sitting on slightly cold hands despite the warm climate of the car, but he could tell Jessie was too warm for comfort, a light reddening on his usually pale cheeks. His lip seemed less swollen now. The need to ask what had happened filled his mind and he distracted himself quickly. 

“...Do you have an Aux cord? Or bluetooth?” The question piqued Jessie’s interest. Thankful the blonde was no longer staring harshly at his face.

“Yeah, here-” He reached between them, hand slightly brushing the younger skaters leg as he reached for the cord Yuri had only just noticed. 

“-Don’t put any shit on kid” He said with a slight upturn of his lips, tossing the cord towards Yuri.

“Stop calling me kid, you’re not much older than me..” Yuri bristled, mumbling under his breath as he connected his phone to the wire. Victor had text him since he’d left the rink, something about date night or whatever _._ They’d be back late. Dinner was in the fridge.

“You gonna play anything shorty?” Snapping his eyes from the text he continued whatever was playing through his headphones, cringing at the heavy base blasted through the extensive sound system.

“Sorry I can change it..” Why the fuck was he apologising?

“Nah you’re fine” And that was all he said to him before turning his eyes back to the darkening road ahead. It was weird, _really fucking weird_ . If someone had told Yuri that he’d be in a car with the other skater this morning he’d have laughed in their face -before pummelling them to the ground for even suggesting it. Yet here he was, _comfortably_ sitting no more than 2 feet from Jessie -fuck they’d even had a half conversation. This was dangerous.

“I haven’t even told you where I live” Victor’s text floated back into his mind.

“That you haven’t, care to share?” Jessie didn’t look at him.

“No” 

“No?” There was a hint of laughter behind his words. Yuri scowled. 

“You could be a stalker -or a murder! I don’t want you to know where I live” Even to his ears it sounded stupid. 

“Alright _fine”_  

At this Jessie pulled off at the next turning. Maybe he was taking him back to the ice rink? Yuri turned from the brunette, eyes widening as the neighbourhood rose around the car. They were in a nice end of Moscow. Not that Victor's apartment was in a rough area -and not the Yuri could complain if it was, his childhood neighbourhood had been rough as fuck. But this was another level.  

Jessie was silent as he pulled into an underground parking bay and Yuri found his panic rising. Maybe the fucker really _was_ going to kill him. Even as the car stopped and the other teen exited Yuri didn’t move, clammy hands balling in his lap.

“If you’re going to kill me -I’ll kill you first _Spencer”_ By now the older boy had rounded the car and opened his passenger side door.

“God you’re fucking dramatic _Plisetsky_ -I’m not here to murder you, but seeing as you wouldn’t tell me your home address and the rink is now _closed,_ we’re at my place” Jessie rolled his eyes at him and Yuri blushed deeply.

Alright so maybe he had been a little extreme. But who could blame him? He was technically Jessie’s biggest competition. The teen could have gone all Tonya Harding on him.

“This is _your_ place?”

They’d walked from the modern looking parking complex to an elevator in silence before reaching Jessie’s studio.

“For now, I’m renting till I figure out a more permanent living situation -toilet is through there if you want to use it” Jessie nodded to a side door to the right. He was living in Yuri’s dream fucking apartment. A complete 180 from the cool scandinavian themed decor of Victor’s and Yuuri’s place, Jessie’s studio was a collective mix of industrial bohemian chic and he was damn jealous of the older skater.  

“So...why aren’t you staying in one of your father’s apartments?” He’d used the toilet Jessie had pointed out, again decorated in the same style of the studio, and was now lazily reclining on the only sofa in the entire room.

“It’s complicated” Yuri knew Jessie’s family had several apartments in the city, his father’s business primarily ran between here and London. Jessie’s wealth was one of the reason Yuri now disliked the teen. Deciding not to push the topic he pressed onto another issue.

“Why have you _really_ returned to skating? I mean it’s not like you’re stripped for cash or anything -not that skating gets you the big bucks unless you’ve got an international sponsor” He knew all about a lack of sponsors. Yakov said he’d be swimming in offers after his last win yet he was still yet to receive any offers from non-russian based countries.

“Would you believe me if I said I just missed it? And no it’s not the money”

“No”

“Well that’s the only reason you’re getting kid” He was stood in the kitchenette, a safe distance from Yuri. For his benefit or the kid’s he wasn’t sure. At least the small blonde looked less murderous than in the car, even arguably relaxed as he lounged on the white sofa, shoeless feet curled underneath himself casually.

“How about you the shorty? Where -or should I say _who,_ are you living with now? Last time I knew you were fluttering between Lilia and your Grandfather -and seeing as you’re still underage I’d hazard a guess that-”

“It’s complicated” He cut Jessie off quickly. Like fuck he was going to spill his business to the rich skater. Jessie didn’t need to know he was sponging off of Victor -because that was essentially what he was doing. He didn’t need the other skater to know his Grandfather was sick and soaking up much of his earnings and _savings._ He did not need Jessie’s pity. Or anybody’s.

Grabbing a beer bottle from the fridge gifted Jessie a moment’s respite from the now icy stare of the Russian skater. Assuming the kid would probably want something too, he grabbed a cold Coke as an afterthought. Taking the safest spot on the edge of the floor level bed, Jessie hesitantly offered the can to the teen across the coffee table. Yuri paused, considering the peace offering before accepting it and cracking the lid. Jessie copied his actions, instead using the wooden table between them to pop his own lid. However instead of taking several gulps he simply fiddled with opened beer bottle nervously. An uncharacteristic action. Jessie never got nervous.

“You’ve grown into a great skater” Yuri choked on his Coke.

“Fuck you mean? Have you been _stalking me_ or something?” He however wasn’t about to admit that he’d stalked the skater turned model for the past 2 years also. Jessie laughed as he coughed and Yuri scowled in his direction heatedly

“Just because I _left_ the sport doesn’t mean I stopped _liking_ it Yura -I have been skating most of my life, longer than even you despite my 2 year break” Jessie hoped the boy would ignore the nickname. He didn’t need to hear _that_ argument again. 

“I’d beat you any day of the week old man -people even say I was the reason you quit! After I bested you in your last season at both the Junior Prix and Worlds you were _right_ to retire!” Jessie took a large gulp of his beer, now feeling the urge to drink. It seemed the kid's fire had only grown more since their shared childhood.

“I’m 19, hardly an old man Yura..” _There it was again_ “And in any case I think you’re forgetting the two consecutive years I won the Junior Grand Prix”

“Because I was too young to compete _jackass_!”  

“Oh yes, while you were still in diapers I was busy winning _Olympic Silver”_ The empty coke can tossed at his head was probably deserved, yet Jessie couldn’t wipe the smirk from his lips. This Yuri was so _so_ different from the quiet wide eyed kid that had shadowed him seven years previously. And yet no different at all. 

“Fuck **_off!_** You’ve always acted my superior since Yakov’s summer camp! I’m almost seventeen for fuck’s sake…”

Yeah, didn’t he fucking know it. Jessie had always admired the kid, hell Yuri was right in saying he shook up Jessie’s entire skating career when he finally had his junior debut. The blonde had snatched both the Junior Prix and Junior Worlds before Jessie had announced his retirement. The kid was fucking amazing.

Jessie was intrigued. And that was dangerous. The last thing he needed was a distraction. 

Yuri fished his phone out as it vibrated in his pocket, having not taken off his jacket despite the warm cosy vibe of the studio. Victor was asking where he was. How the silver haired legend knew he wasn’t home was beyond him, the man had fucking spider senses. Typing a quick reply that he was _ok_ and that he was _at a friends house,_ Yuri went to put his phone away before pausing to look at Jessie.

“Can you drive me home?” This brought a smirk to the older teen’s lips. 

“Oh so you trust me now? I’m honoured truly”

“Don’t be a dick -yes or no can you drive me?” 

“I’d rather not risk it” Lifting up his now empty beer bottle, Jessie shook it a little for effect. Not that one bottle would affect him in the _slightest._ He’d drove under the influence more times than he cared to think about, usually on something a little stronger than slightly warmed beer. But with Yuri, he wouldn’t risk it.

“Ugh- _fine,_ but next time you bring me over don’t leave me stranded, what’s your address?” Typing out Jessie’s address quickly, Yuri fired the text to Victor with a reply that the older man wouldn’t be long. Apparently he’d taken Katsudon to a nice restaurant in the same fancy neighbourhood as Jessie's studio.

“So there’s a next time? Didn’t realise you liked me kid” It was said with a smirk, humour intended yet Yuri couldn’t fight the blush rising to his cheeks. Did he really say next time? Fuck. 

“You know what I meant. And we’re not friends. I still hate you, _fiercely_ ” It sounded weak even to his ears. Fuck how could he go from hating -although the more he thought about it the more he realised he never _really_ hated the English skater, to actually considering spending more time with him. He didn’t want to think about it. 

Once his shoes were back on, Jessie steered him through the corridors towards the foyer entrance and not the modern parking lot from which they entered. Victor and Katsudon were outside and yet, he felt the sudden urge to stay with the slightly older skater. Shaking the urge away mentally, he turned to Jessie after spotting Victor waving frantically from his car. 

“So...thanks for the lift I guess? And letting me not freeze to death. And for letting me stay in your apartment-”

“Yura -stop, it’s fine” Yuri was rambling. It was sort of endearing. Although the now beet red Russian probably thought differently.

“Fuck sorry. Thanks again” And with a quick slightly awkward nod Yuri span on his heels with the intent of sprinting to Victor's car.

“Kid, do you have a lift to the rink?”

“...Um-m _no?_ But the walk isn’t that far and I don’t mind the cold _usually…”_ Fucking hell why was he rambling again! It was like the moment Jessie turned those cerulean eyes on him his thoughts turned to mush and all his blood rushed to his face. _And other places._

“I’ll drive you” 

“No” 

“Russian super skater Victor Nikiforov is waving as if his life depends on it our way -now my bet is that you’re living with him. I also know that he lives not far from here and therefore it would be no hassle for me to both pick you up and drop you off from his house, at least until the weather picks up a bit” It wasn’t a question. 

“Will you shut up and let me go if I agree?” The thought of a warm ride to and from practice sounded delightful, meaning he could wake up a little later. The downside; more unsupervised time with the English skater that was messing with his head.

Jessie simply beamed at him before lunging for the phone held in Yuri’s hand. He went to protest only for the animal print cased phone to be placed securely back in his hands before he could manage a single word. 

“There, that’s my number. I've put yours in mine also. Text me the address and time you want picking up. I’m flexible”  

Yuri ignored the tidal wave of questions from the two older skaters as he jumped in the backseat of Victor’s car. He didn’t have the energy to answer their questions. And more importantly he didn’t have the fucking energy to deal with a certain dark haired skater in the morning. He fished his phone out at the vibration in his pocket. 

[ ](https://ibb.co/eNn0Fx)

Fuck he was screwed.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication and mutual pining! Kinda a Fluffy chapter! End is rushed. Kinda Smut?

Two weeks. Two entire fucking weeks he’d been picked up and dropped off by a boy who he had thought he’d _hated._

Not that he particularly liked Jessie now.

But he’d admit the older teen wasn’t the worst company -they'd managed to have a dozen conversations without arguing. And when they weren't laughing and joking, Yuri would blast music over the extensive speaker system. His music taste was interesting to say the least, but Jessie enjoyed watching the younger teen shout along to the _-barely-_ there lyrics. The club mixes the blonde prefered were a stark contrast to Jessie's own preferences. Yuri had learnt the older skater prefered what he called ‘ _soul disco’_ -and he'd admit it wasn't half bad. The modern 80's remixes weren't  _that_ different to his own music taste and while Jessie allowed him to play his own playlist, Yuri would often slip in one of the brunettes favourites just to watch a wide smile grace his lips.

if anything, Yuri realised he liked making Jessie smile.

If the time allowed, they’d stop to grab coffee -Yuri's usual a white chocolate mocha and Jessie's a straight black coffee, before heading to the rink. The first day, the unlikely duo received stares, with Jessie able to brush off the whispers of their fellow rink mates easier than Yuri. After the first week had come and gone, so had the interest in their budding friendship.

[“ ** _Yura!_ ** Move with a little more grace _please_. You didn’t attend my classes for years to move like a corpse!”] Lilia's presence was astounding, even if the once Prima Ballerina's criticism wasn't aimed their way, each skater cringed at the demanding voice of the stern woman. Nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of Lilia Baranovskaya's wrath. 

“I’m _fucking_ trying”

Yuri wouldn't dare speak the words more than a whisper. Lilia was a terrifying lady, and he really didn’t want to be in her bad books today. Not long after -and with several more criticisms from his ballet coach, Yuri hit the changing room. Too annoyed to shower he simply grabbed his things from his locker and shrugged on his coat. He'd finally heeded Katsudon's advice and exchanged his usual hoodie combo for a warmer and thicker winter coat. It was nearing Christmas, and the Russian capital seemed to be dropping in temperature daily. For a native, he really _fucking_ hated the cold.

“You off then?” The voice was now familiar, the sharp accent now a normality to his ears. Without thinking he turned towards the voice only to come up short, staring at the hardly covered teen before him. 

“Ugh..." Instead of formulating a response, Yuri's brain seemed more interested in the dozen or so water droplets trickling from slightly dampened hair, eyes unconsciously tracing their pattern down Jessie's sculpted chest. Only when a rouge droplet reached the white towel loosely held in place around the brunettes hips did Yuri blush fiercely, eyes shooting away from the tempting sight. The tiled wall to the right of Jessie's head were suddenly  _very interesting._

_"....Yura?"_ Jessie shifted his hold on the towel, eyes flicking to the blush rising on the blonde's cheeks. 

"Lilia was riding my ass and sent me home early” Yuri answered quickly, eyes still locked on anything but Jessie. He blamed his reddening cheeks on the steam filtering from the showers. And pointedly _not_ from the half naked teen before him. 

“Ah okay! I’ll drive you -just let me get dressed first” 

The car ride was filled with awkward silence. Well, for Yuri it was. Jessie on the other hand simply kept casting confused slightly worried looks towards the red faced blonde. Was he feeling well? 

For Yuri, silence was better. If he kept his mouth shut -a hard feat for the short teen, then he wouldn't spill any word vomit. God what was he even worried about? Being a male skater -often sharing changing rooms, he'd seen just about everything. Plus he was no virgin to watching porn, he'd seen guys in action. But there was a difference between a faceless man on his phone screen and a dripping wet  _Jessie._

Jessie was an attractive male -hell he'd seen the looks other skaters gave him. So his body was simply reacting to an visually attractive body, right? It had nothing to do with the fact Jessie was  _Jessie._

“Hey, wanna grab coffee?” Yuri's heart thumped uncomfortably. They always grabbed Coffee, there was no reason as to why now anything would be different. 

“If you have the time?"

"I always have time for you Yura" 

They found themselves in a small Coffee shop around the corner from the rink, Yuri ordering his usual while Jessie had opted for a gingerbread hot chocolate instead.

Jessie didn't complain when Yuri stole his marshmallows. 

“ _Sooo..._ how are you feeling about Euro’s?” Yuri asked over the top of his white chocolate mocha, the large cup covering his still warmed cheeks.

The blonde looked cute, Jessie thought as he gazed at the blushing skater. He'd noticed something was amiss since leaving the rink, the shorter of the two hiding behind a curtain of slightly too long locks and now hiding his red cheeks behind his large mug. Honestly Jessie was at a loss. Had he done something to annoy the tiny skater? Although he'd admit, the blush suited Yuri, colour contrasting delightfully with his bright hair and eyes. Instead of asking what he really wanted to, Jessie dipped his head, answering the blonde's question instead.

“I mean honestly? I’m nervous. Not about my skating, I’ve been practicing enough with Yakov -despite not hitting my Quad axel yet, to feel about ready. What I am nervous about is seeing and interacting with the other skaters. It's no secret that I'm not liked among them but I can't blame them, I've practically done no work and yet I've been invited to Euros!"

“I thought you were _close_ with some of them” If the other skaters really did give Jessie stick, Yuri would give them fucking hell. Jessie laughed lightly, taking a sip of his cooling hot chocolate.

"True, during my break from the ice I kept in contact with a few skaters. I'm sure your guardian Victor would understand, winning doesn't always get you friends" 

"Even if Victor never won I'd _still_ find him annoying!" Jessie smirked at Yuri's comment, a small laugh falling from his lips.

Jessie looked hot when he laughed.

The thought was so quick Yuri almost missed it. Where the fuck had that come from? It was as if he was suddenly seeing the older skater in a new light. Yuri chewed his cheek nervously. 

“You should be nicer to the man who's housing you!" Yuri scowled.

"But to answer your question about Euros; I feel like I have something to prove. Being selected to represent my country after a break as long as mine -and over some really talented skaters, I'm feeling the pressure. Plus I have to win big if I want to go to World's. It's just a lot of weight on my shoulders and if I don't do well then it won't just be myself I'm letting down”

Yuri was shocked. Jessie wasn't one to worry, and if he did, he never showed it. Even when he'd beaten the older skater during juniors he'd always stayed cool and collected, never letting it show that he was nervous, let alone disappointed. The sudden need to comfort him left an uncomfortable taste in his mouth. What the fuck was going on with him today? 

He didn't know who was more shocked when Yuri reached a pale hand towards Jessie's, fingers not quite interlocking, but enough that it could be classed as hand holding. Yuri worried his lip. What would be worse -Jessie pulling away coldly or returning the simple gesture.

But Jessie didn't pull away.

Like the changing rooms, Yuri shifted nervously, eyes everywhere but on the brunette. Even if he was enjoying the warmth from their now interlocked fingers. 

“You’ll fucking smash it Jess” 

“Thanks _Kid”_  Reaching for his hot chocolate, Jessie kept their hands interlocked, innocently resting against the hardwood of the table for all to see. And Yuri found that didn’t bother him one bit. Friend's could do this right? 

“It kinda looks like we’re on a date...” _God_ did the word vomit ever fucking stop?

“When I take you on a date, _you’ll know about it_ ” It was innocently said and yet warmth spread in Yuri's gut, tugging painful as his mind thought over Jessie's words. Not _if,_  Jessie didn't say  _if_ they went on a date. No, the handsome skater had said  _when._ As if it was in his future plans. He gulped. Date's were, in fact, _not_ something friends do.

[“ ** _Disgusting,_** nobody wants to see faggots like you!]

The voice pierced the calm atmosphere of the Cafe, a dozen eyes flickering to the sudden scene before several heads ducked down. Nobody wanted to get involved. A man, stood no more than five feet from their table, with a receding hairline, had his squinting eyes on their table, gaze focused accusingly on the skaters interlocked finger.

Yuri tugged at the warm grasp on his hand, an unusual want to appease the man now stalking towards their tabel.  _Fuck,_ Jessie didn’t deserve this. Yuri wasn't blind, he read the news and seen the rising attacks, hell he'd been on the receiving end of both verbal _and_ physical homophobic attacks. It was so normalised here he couldn't remember a time when his sexuality  _wasn't_ penalised.

On the ice, Yuri was unstoppable, cocky and confident. He  _knew_ he was good, he demanded respect. But he was young, still exploring and learning about himself, his own sexuality. He lacked the ability to confidently defend himself.

At the sudden quietness Jessie frowned, gazing between the approaching male and the head of blonde hair before him. Feeling the pale hand begin to tug in his grasp his gaze darkened. Instead of releasing the fingers he held harder, only moving to stand from his chair, instinctively placing himself between Yuri and the aggressive male.

They were only holding fucking hands, Jessie couldn't understand the reason for the sudden onslaught of abuse. But seeing his friend suddenly so docile, practically curling in on himself, something in Jessie snapped. The man was now toe to toe with the brunette, eyes widening once realising the teen was both taller and wider than himself. Jessie could take the man,  _easily._

But he wouldn't put Yuri in a situation like that.

_[“_ Sir, if you don't like it, then  _kindly_ _fuck off._  We're not bothering anyone here _"_ _]_ He guestered around the room, ignoring how several heads ducked at his comment. 

Yuri’s eyes widened. Surely it was best to ignore the man? Hell last time he’d confronted someone who’d insulted him he’d ended up with a busted jaw. Moscow wasn’t like liberal parts of London. The police would _fucking agree_ with the man before them. Yuri had learnt to just ignore the fuckers, less chance he’d end up dead that way.

[“What was that boy? _**Filthy pansy**_ ”] The man continued to ramble on.

[“ _So what_ if I fuck guys? I probably get more action than you!"] The man spluttered, face going impossibly red at Jessie's words. 

[“Fuck you, we were leaving anyways"] Ignoring their unfinished drinks, Jessie pulled the younger teen behind him. They ducked from the shop before the man could shout anymore curses their way. 

Jessie looked furious as he pulled Yuri towards the car, practically pulling the car door from its hinges as he opened it for the blonde. The mood was heavy as they drove, neither breaking what was beginning to become an awkward silence. For Yuri, the man's behaviour wasn't a new experience. But he didn't know if it was for Jessie. Fuck, he was  _pretty_ sure Jessie was straight.

Jessie's already deeply set cheeks looked more pinched than usual, his constant dimples invisible with the frown on his lips. Yuri knew the older teen was annoyed, but over what part he wasn't sure. The atmosphere was so fucking uncomfortable yet he felt several questions burning the tip of his tongue. Maybe a different approach was required.

“You didn't have to do what you did..” At this the grip Jessie had on the wheel tightened “-but thank you. If It was me I’d probably just have ignored him and taken it…” Yuri worried his lower lips, chewing at the reddened flesh. It was an annoying habit he'd picked up from Katsudon but he couldn't help it.  

“You should never apologize for being who you are Yura, nor should you let yourself be walked over like you're worthless” Yuri blushed at the words.

Something he was doing _far_ too often around the attractive blue eyed boy for his liking. 

“Being gay in Russia isn’t exactly a _fun ride_ at the moment” The words tumbled from his lips before he could help them. _Fuck,_ what if Jessie wasn’t cool with his sexuality? But then the older teen wouldn’t have reacted like that unless he was chill with it, right? God what if he only did it because he pitied him? That was worse. So much worse. 

“The key is to be confident. They expect you to back down, so standing up for yourself is the best thing to do-”

“-although the first time I brought a boy home my dad _did_ give me a black eye”

Yuri tried not to react. Really tried. It wasn’t a big deal. Although the sudden lightness in his chest told him otherwise. _God_ why the fuck had he grabbed his hand?! Jessie probably thought he _liked_ him or something. He did like Jessie, but not like _that._ Totally not like that.

“You’re gay” Could he have been any less subtle? The hardness slipped from Jessie’s face instantly.

“Great observation skills there Yura. Were you deaf when I told that wanker back there that I like fucking guys?” True Yuri  _had_ heard Jessie say that. But he'd put it down to the taller skater wanting to protect him. Which was hot. Almost as hot as finding out Jessie swings the same way as himself. 

But unlike Yuri, Jessie had the experience that the blonde didn't. It wasn't like he hadn't had offeres, fuck sometimes he'd have to fight them off with a stick. But nobody had ever caught his eye. Not like the way Jessie had. The idea that the brunette had been with others while he himself had never, made his stomach drop. Why he felt the sudden greenness of jealousy he had no fucking idea. Jessie wasn’t _his._ They’d only _just_ become friends of sorts. Jessie Spencer could fuck whoever he wanted. 

And he probably did. Tall, painfully attractive with the personality to match, Yuri was sure the English teen wasn’t short of potential suitors. But were they simply that? Hookups with no strings or had the brunette felt love with any of these other men? God had he shagged any of his competitors. He didn’t put it passed Chris to _try._

“How many?”

“Sorry _what?_ ”

“How many people have you fucked?” Jessie's eyes snapped his way clear shock in his blue orbs and Yuri could hear his sudden intake of breath. 

“Yura…” The same anger as before settle over the brunette skater and Yuri shrank back in his seat a little.

"I don't see how my love life is anything to do with you, you're too young for this shit anyways" Yuri scowled out his window at Jessie's words. God he acted like Yuri was a fucking child!

"I'm not even a fucking virgin you know" Yuri muttered the lie quietly but he knew Jessie heard it. He suddenly had the urge to prove he wasn't some young innocent kid. 

"And I don't need you to look after me! I'm almost fucking 17" 

"I don't care about you because you're a kid Yura, I care because you're my  _friend"_ Yuri would have blushed, but his mind was too focused on Jessie once again calling him a child.

"Don't. Call. Me. **_Kid_** _"_ He bit the words out, venom dripping in his voice and Jessie almost flinched, grip on the wheel increasing tenfold.

It was silent after that, Jessie concentrating on the snowy roads and Yuri fiddling with his phone, only half looking at his Instagram feed. His mind was elsewhere. More specifically on how he'd fucked up once again. He tended to speak his mind and now he had gone and messed up whatever friendship had been building between he and Jessie. Ruined it like he ruined everything. Fuck was there anything he couldn’t eventually screw up.  

Jessie pulled up to Victor's house silently, and Yuri paused for a second before realising that the older skater wasn't going to move. Grabbing his bag he kicked the door open wordlessly, slamming it equally as hard. The moment it shut the white Porsche was speeding from view.

* * *

Mila’s Christmas Eve ‘Eve’ night out came around quicker than expected. The pretty redhead had been all but gushing about her annual pre Christmas Eve gathering all practice while Yuri had been half paying attention. Instead the blonde had been busy casting glances towards a certain brunette foreign skater as often as possible. Jessie didn't spare him a glance.

“-the girls are coming round to my place before we hit the bar -you’re welcome to come early too! I can even do your hair and _makeup_ if you let me! Oooo I have just the perfect smoky eyeshadow to try on you-” As the end of practice approached, Mila’s periodic rambling and gushing had become unrelenting, with the wide eyed woman hardly concentrating on skating. Although who was he kidding -he’d hardly been focused the last week either. Since he and Jessie had _fallen out._  

It was ridiculous.

The morning after the fight Yuri had been ready to trek to the rink by foot, only to gape at the white car parked outside. Jessie had still picked Yuri up and dropped him home for the last week. But it wasn’t the same. They no longer grabbed coffee -even if they had the time. Jessie wouldn't initiate conversation further than to ask if Yuri was cold and Yuri had stopped playing his music after the second day of silence. 

He would have rather walked.

“ _Plisetsky,_ hey earth to Yuri! Are you even listening to me?”

“No” Mila sighed dramatically, arms wrapping around the smaller skater despite his hiss of annoyance.

“You’re so annoying! You better not be this moody tonight Yura _honestly…”_  

To his credit, Yuri _did_ lift his mood slightly when he’d trekked to Mila’s, the overzealous redhead practically squealing when she’d finished getting him ready. Irina and Eva had arrived at the modest one bed apartment not long after him, opened already indulged wine clutched in their arms. Yuri had been just slightly too young looking to come last year, but if Mila’s previous year’s hangover was anything to show, he was in for a _long_ night. Mila’s friends were somewhat like her -both loud with an aura of confidence. Irina was a slight woman with chocolate ringlets and steel eyes while Eva was towering, pin straight hair with honeycomb eyes. He would have been intimidated until a comforting smile graced the tall woman's lips. 

Yuri blamed the alcohol for their gushing. 

“God you’re so pretty! I could only _dream_ of a stomach like that! You're hips are so delicate”

"Is that your natural hair colour? I wish mine was natural, I'm a bottle blonde unfortunately -it costs me a small fortune every month!" Eva grasped a stray piece of his hair, holding it towards her own golden locks with a pout. Yuri could already tell these women we're going to be a nightmare.

Mila had simply squealed at the compliments, raving about how it was _her_ handy work as to why he looked so good. He’d admit, he looked good enough to eat. They’d mix matched clothes when getting ready but both decided on his bottoms paired with one of Mila’s top’s and array of jewellery. The jeans were black ripped and low hanging enough that he could proudly show off his taut stomach muscles. The top designed for someone of Mila's height fell slightly longer on himself. The sleeves were cut off at his shoulders -something he'd argued Mila about due to the temperature, before conceding. All in all Yuri thought he had far too much skin on display for the time of year. He'd be getting a lot of attention whether he wanted it or not. 

Although not from the person he _wanted._

The light smudge of charcoal eyeshadow beneath his emerald eyes were enough to shoot his confidence through the roof. There was nothing wrong with wanting to get glammed up for himself and himself only. Straight hair half up half down, Yuri knew he looked _fucking_ good. When the quartet had polished off the remainder of the winethey’d made their way albeit slightly stumbling -save for Yuri, towards the bar.

The oriental themed bar wasn’t what Yuri expected as they neared and entered the hidden door of the bar. The only tell tale signs he could see that this tiny knook in the wall was a busy establishment was the dozen or so frozen party goers queued outside. A little area to the side was filled with people blowing smoke into the air and the main door flanked by a stern faced bouncer. Before Yuri could voice his worries Eva had sauntered up to the darkly dressed doorman, whispering a few words in his ear with a sly smirk. Yuri fidgetted as the man looked over their group before nodding with a smirk of his own, arm ushering them up the line and into the club without issue. A chorus of moans followed their group from the freezing people outside -seemingly not happy with their easy entry, but Yuri ignored them. He was too excited to explore the heaving club.  

“Let’s get drinks!” Was Mila's first words once they'd stumbled their way down the two flights of dimly lit stairs. He'd been confused at first -having never been in a club or bar that was underground.

The red head practically yanked his arm off as they wove their way to the bar, his attractive rink mate securing them a space at the busy bar easily, smile snagging a barman quickly. The entire club was underground. Two bars filled the slightly cramped space, a medium sized but already cramped dance floor separating the two, with a further two separate spaces. On the one side was a massive sofa with low hanging lights dotted above, several party ogers already lounging on the almost bed like seat. To the other side was a slightly more formal sitting area, dimly lit with high seated tables. Despite his height disadvantage, Yuri could just see the tops of both Eva and Irina's head's.  

“It’s a new club that’s why it’s so popular! It’s the hottest place to be at the moment -and the drinks are meant to be _amazing”_ Mila was talking to him but Yuri found himself too distracted by the now uncomfortable crush of bodies behind him. He really hated people. Especially slightly drunk too handsy people. They were too large to be female, thick sweaty fingers ghosting his exposed hips in what Yuri assumed the man thought was sensual. He was revolted but before he could snap, the redhead was thrusting a disgustingly familiar shot his way and the hands dropped away.

The clear liquid burnt as it hit his throat and he fought the natural gag reflex to vomit the unsavoury liquid back up.

“ _Yu-uraaa..._ we’re meant to do it together!” Mila pouted his way but he simply rolled his eyes. He was definitely not feeling as tipsy as the enthusiastic female skater. She too winced after knocking back the shot before passing him a bright cocktail, ushering him in the direction of Irina and Eve. The two had amassed a small group around their table but shooed the admireers away as soon as they spotted him and Mila. They were sat far enough from the speakers that the ringing in Yuri's ears lessened.

Once seated Mila dished out the other drink, a large fishbowl like cocktail with several neon straws and umbrellas thrown in. It's sickening appearance didn't slow down the women as they happily drank and Yuri nursed his own drink. The music was familiar and when he realised why, he frowned into his cocktail, sipping deeply at the fruity liquid. 

_Soul disco._  

_“Woah_ there blondie -slow down or your ride home will be in an ambulance!” Irina lifted her head from their shared drink bowl -it's contents now depleted considerably, staring wide eyed as he necked the remainder of his drink. He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t _that_ much of a fucking lightweight. 

“It's basically fruit juice, I'm sure I'll be fine. You should be more worried that you're drinking some random concoction, do you even know what's in there?” 

“But I'm _sharing"_ Irina shrugged before going back to sipping the mixed drink.

"Cocktails are the worst for hangovers -Mila knows all about that don’t you ginger?” The redhead blushed at Eva’s words. Cocktails _had_ been her downfall the year previous.  

Deciding to not heed their warnings -seeing as they were one's to talk, Yuri grabbed two more, returning to the table with a flowery drink in each hand. Maybe leaving in an ambulance wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing. Despite their hesitance, Mila's friends had cheered him on as he also bought a round of amber coloured shots -tequila this time, and they all collectively winced at the taste, rushing to bite into slices of lemon. It was nice to actually relax. Sure, At Victor's he could relax but despite their tryings Yuri still felt like a guest in their home. He felt like he was crashing the newlywed's vibe most of the time despite how many times the silver haired legend would smother him and say it was  _alright_ for Yuri to stay with him and his husband. But with Yakov on his tail and having yet to fully complete his programs without mistake, he'd been feeling the pressure. 

And then there was this  _thing_ with Jess. Whatever the fuck that was.

So instead of thinking about it, Yuri filled himself with alcohol.

When the two girls had gone to dance among the throng of drunken revellers, many eyes staring after the gorgeous pair, Mila had much to his surprise stayed put. Instead she'd turned aqua slightly fuzzy eyes on the blonde, an unreadable expression on her pale face.

“What’s going on with you and Jessie?” Her words were straight to the point and Yuri almost choked on his now fifth cocktail, the effects now having a tight grip on both his mind and body. 

_“Nothing”_ He didn’t slur. But his head was spinning and the need for the bathroom was growing with every sip of his drink. Mila had switched to water.

“Yura don’t bullshit me” and the added safe drink had apparently cleared her head enough to begin interrogating Yuri. He hadn't agreed to this, all he wanted was to just have a moment where he didn't have to  _worry._ Didn't have to worry about his upcoming performances, worry about his living situation or more over his dislike for it. Where he didn't have to worry about his ailing grandfather and his lack of funds. Yuri wanted to just feel nothing, to feel like for once in his short life that the entire world wasn't resting on his shoulder heavily.

And _over everything_ he especially didn't want to be talking about the older skater.  

“Nothing is going on, _alri-ight?”_ He stumbled slightly on his words, placing his now empty glass down on the table harsher than intended and winced as Mila jumped slightly at the noise. He didn't _think_ he was drunk, but he body was telling him otherwise. A quick gaze around the dark room had his head spinning -suggesting that _maybe_ he might have overindulged slightly. Who could blame him? 

“Fine _fine”_ She held her hands up in surrender but he ignored her. Instead Yuri cast hazy eyes around for the nearest toilet. Just as he spotted the red neon sign and made a move to stagger his way there, Mila snagged his attention once more with a more hesitant look on her face. 

“...Do you _want_ something to be going on? With Jessie I mean”

Fuck, he really didn’t need this right now. He didn't even want to consider the question, too worried about the answer he himself already knew.

“Even if I did, it would never happ- _en_. Just **forg- _get_** about it alright!” Mila didn’t deserve his anger. It wasn’t her fault that he fancied Jessie. But until now he'd been able to starve his brain of thinking about the handsome skater.

Because there was no denying it. Yuri had a big fat inconvenient crush on his rink mate. All it had taken was a week of practical silence from the brunette and Yuri found himself pinning after Jessie. _God_ he missed the stupid fucking half smile, that flash of teeth when he’d roll his eyes at something Yuri said. The way he'd put up with Yuri's music taste despite he himself not particularly like it. It was silly, such small things. But for Yuri, who'd mostly only ever been looked at for his skating, to have someone take an interest in him simply for  _him,_ it was heartwarming.

At 5'5, pushing through the now rampacked club was difficult. Yet Yuri still managed to make his way to the bathroom quickly by practically growling at anyone in his way. He was pissed, both with anger and alcohol. And both together weren’t a recipe for anything good. Mila just _had_ to bring up Jessie. 

God it wasn’t like he hadn’t had crushes in the past -and he **never** acted on them. At one point he’d even held a smattering of feelings for his now silver hair guardian, before realizing what a buffoon the man was. It was little more than a childhood crush. He’d die before ever telling Victor he idolised him more than normal as a child, although with the way the older man teased him, Yuri was embarrassingly sure the man already knew. 

And sure maybe as a child he'd liked Jessie in the same way. But now, it was something different. Now he knew his sexuality, that liking someone the way he likes Jessie is more than a simple friendship. As a child is had been innocent, but now? Not as much so. Jessie had infiltrated his dreams, his desires. When he'd reach into his boxers and grasp himself at night, it wasn't some faceless man he'd imagine, but Jessie. He'd imagine how it would feel to be held in the skater's strong arms, how it would feel to listen to moans tumble from his rosy lips. Yuri had spent the last week alone nightly whispering Jessie's name as he shamelessly came into his fist.

No, none of this was innocent anymore.

Even as he accepted this, that he _liked Jessie more than a friend,_ nothing would change. Because Jessie Spencer could have anyone he wanted -apparently already _had_ . He wouldn’t want a tiny feminine skater with a _slight_ anger problem. He didn’t need all the fucking baggage Yuri plisetsky carried on his back. He wasn't even on the same playing field as Jessie. 

To Jessie, he was nothing more than a _kid._  A kid that someone like Jessie wouldn't even give a second look, and if he did? It would be nothing more than friendship. But Yuri wanted more.The thought put a sour taste in his mouth and-

_oh **fuck,**_  he was going to throw up in the next 10 seconds. Pushing through the door he scanned the empty room, eyeing the only cubicle. Stumbling towards it he pushed the grimey door open only to freeze at the sight that greeted his eyes.

Green eyes met shocked blue and before he could help it, Yuri keeled over, vomit burning his throat before splashing on the occupants shoes.

* * *

How he ended up here -the ebbings of drugs dripping down the back of his throat with a somewhat attractive blonde wrapped around his cock, Jessie honestly didn’t know. Who the fuck goes to a bar alone? Although in his defence he hadn’t ended up _alone_ long. He didn’t know what made him say yes to the dark blonde when he approached Jessie at the bar. Maybe because he looked exactly like Yuri, save for the shade of his hair and the colour of his eyes. But then also, nobody could look _exactly_ like the Russian Fairy. 

He should have left the moment the other man began crushing up white powder on his phone. Should have ran when the innocent looking powder was equally divided into two very tempting lines.

But he hadn’t.

Instead he’d reached into his wallet and pulled a rather crumpled note out, rolling it with knowing hands, and bent down to snort the powder in a single swift sweep, pinching his nose as the powder infiltrated his senses. He’d hoped it was Ketamine -or at least Mandy. The former of the two was a quick buzz, he wasn't after anything long lasting. Truthfully he wasn't after anything at all. And yet despite it all he'd given in at the first hurdle, defence easily broken. It would be easy to blame Yuri, finding himself cursing the name because it was the innocent looking blondes fault that his defence was so weak, that he himself was so weak. But he wouldn't. Because it was nobody but his own doing. 

At the tell tale signs of Coke settle through his body -front teeth numbing, he cursed. He’d been off it long enough that the sensation was almost uncomfortable. After the first line the man -who’s name Jessie hadn’t asked or cared for, had kissed him. It wasn’t the right blonde man he wanted to be kissing. Where brown eyes were Jessie wished for green orbs. Still, he kissed the stranger deeper. He tasted a mixture of sweet alcohol, the sort of shit he’d had when he was a much younger teen, and the industrial drip of Cocaine. It was disgusting and yet he ground into the male, pushing the blonde against the side of the metal bathroom stall. 

Rutting against the man became tiresome despite the pleasure shooting through him as their clothed lengths rubbed against each other. It soon became painful almost, his own pulsing member caged in the tight confines of his jeans. Sensing Jessie's growing annoyance, the man slipped to his knees, placing a heated open mouthed kiss against Jessie’s bulging trousers. 

[“Fuck, I bet you’re _massive”_ ] The man was talking to his crotch and Jessie had to centre his thoughts in order to understand the Russian. Instead of answering he simply grabbed a fist of blonde hair, not caring for the wince on his face as he pulled the Russian from his crotch. Wordlessly Jessie pulled himself free, shimmying his jeans and boxers down enough to allow his cock to spring free. The same hand pumped himself twice before unceremoniously shoving the offending member towards open lips 

**“** _ **Fuc-k….”** _ He practically hissed as warm mouth met throbbing flesh. The blonde didn’t need the encouragement of the hand in his hair, happily to instantly suck in Jessie’s entire length, enough for his sensitive tip to graze the back of his throat and entice another deep moan from him. The last guy who’d done this had blushed enough that Jessie thought the poor man would pass out. This blonde was something entirely different -he’d _definitely_ done this before.

When they’d entered the bathroom it had been empty and despite yet hearing the door open, he schooled himself enough to keep his grunts to a minimum -now finding himself thrusting into the warm expanse of the mouth below him. The man didn’t seem to mind, in fact Jessie was sure he was enjoying the ruthless pace that he’d set, despite having added a hand as well as the use of his mouth to aid in getting Jessie off. He was big enough to know deepthroating someone of his size caused an ache quickly and the stimulation of both hand and mouth was just as good. The blonde was sloppy, spit trickling down his jaw as he bobbed around Jessie's cock. If he was being truthful, Jessie thought the man was trying too hard.

His eyes flickered to the discarded baggie of powder. Why stop now? He was close and the thought of the somewhat attractive male leaving (and leaving with his drugs) once Jessie came, had the brunette reaching.

“Got a key?” He was embarrassed at the slight breathlessness of his voice. Fuck this guy was exceptional with his mouth.

“Ah, _English?_ ” The blonde spoke without a care for the pearl of precum and spit dripping from his chin. It was a sight Jessie's body enjoyed, his cock thrusting slightly on it's own accord to graze the moving lips. The blonde was a fucking delightful sight. Jessie hissed at the sensation but images of _another_ certain blonde appeared before he could help it. His already stiff cock grew impossibly harder. Reaching into his jacket the _actual_ blonde on the floor passed him a key that looked rather over used for a purpose other than opening doors. 

Sticking the metal object into the little bag of powder, Jessie carefully gathered a decent sized key, lifting it to his already used nostril and inhaling deeply. Closing his eyes as the second load of cocaine filtered down his throat was a mistake, stark blonde hair and green eyes materializing behind closed lids, imaging the not even legal teen on his knees in place of the man below him. 

Fuck, he had it _bad._

He held in the moan as wet mouth circled hot skin, instinctively grabbing onto the not long enough hair of the man below to urge the him to increase his pace. He contemplated doing another key before his eyes snapped to the unlocked stall door as it began to open. He’d been caught fucking in enough club toilets -both male _and_ female, not to care, but the drugs were another issue. _Although_ from what he’d seen already, he was sure whoever it was would take more offence at his cock being sucked than the drugs.

Thinking the worst, all he could do was wince and wait for the inevitable. The man below let out a hum around his cock, not realising or not caring for their sudden lack of privacy. Jessie tugged urgently at the man's hair, a groan of protest leaving the man as he sloppily released Jessie's length, cock slapping against his smirking face.

Jessie would have prefered a bouncer -or the police, even his own god damn father, to the sight before him as the stall door finally opened. Wide emerald eyes met his and his breath caught _._ He’d wish for anybody else to be staring him dead in the eyes, _anybody_ -but the tiny blonde teen staring his way heartbrokenly. Their eyes locked, surprised blue meeting tearing green and Jessie's words caught in his throat.

Not a breath later, Yuri was throwing up on his shoes.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooops, I'm back? I'm home from Uni now so no more leaving after-parties at 10am or two day benders on no sleep :) Meaning hopefully I'll be back to updating regularly.

* * *

“Yura, are you going to be eating any of that? Or simply creating art with it?” 

“I’m not hungry” Victor and Yuuri exchanged a worried look.

“Well _alright_ then, do you want to open the last of your presents at least?” Victor eyed the single present under their rather too tall tree, delicately wrapped in silver with an expensive looking bow.

“No, I’m heading to bed” Yuri pushed back from the overly decorated -or what he thought was overly decorated, table. He hadn’t even touched his Christmas cracker, nor looked anymore at his remaining gift having caught sight of the name attached. “If that’s alright?” He hastily added on. His mood wasn’t _their_ fault, he's not _that_ much of a brat to act as so.

“Sure Yurio, if that’s what you want?” Yuuri’s tone was soft, as if he was addressing a scared animal.

At the sound of the teen’s door slamming, the silver haired legend breathed deeply, an unusual frown set deep on his arched brows. His husband shared a look of concern. It would have been impossible to ignore the tiny teen's mood, it hung heavy despite the day. Victor prefered celebrating the international date to that of the Russian Orthodox. The 25th of December was meant to be filled with happiness and _family._ He’d pulled a rather blurry eyed Yuri from his bed at the crack of dawn because if there was anything that could lift a person’s mood; it was Christmas. _And_ birthday's. And the 25th happened to be both, for Victor.

But in Yurio’s case, neither had wavered his mood.

“We need to ask him about it” Yuuri began, straightening the paper crown on his head. Victor thought he looked adorable, despite the worry in his eyes.

“He’ll tell us when he’s ready. You and I both know that he’ll only tell us when he’s ready” He himself had a pointed party hat on. 

“It’s been two days since Jessie carried his unconscious form through our front door. _Jesus_ Victor, what the hell happened? And why _Jessie_ of all people? I thought the two hated each other!” 

“It’s complicated _lyublyu”_ He reached across to sweep a thumb under blue rimmed glasses, dark eyes glistening. His Yuuri really was beautiful.

"And drunk! Victor he's sixteen, I know he says we're not his guardians or whatever but despite his angry exterior I see him almost as our child! To let him get himself into such a state show's that we're really not up to the task of looking after him-"

"Yuuri love,  _breath"_

"Sorry Victor, I'm just worried..." Yuuri gazed sheepishly away from Victor, fighting the panic bubbling up inside. Yuuri really would make a  _great_ doting parent one day. Parental instincts really suited him.

His husband was so unconditionally loving. Victor regarded his student turned husband with thoughtful eyes. They didn’t keep secrets, Yuuri and he, even if the secret wasn’t his to keep. Looking at the substantial amount of cold food still untouched on the table Victor felt silly. He’d wanted this day to be _so_ perfect, to have the best food, the best decorations, and yet he had ignored the fact one person of their trio had been hurting. That he had been hurting for a while and only now were they picking up on it.

“Yurio wasn’t always so...” He tried to find the words, the perfect words to describe just _what_ Yuri was.

“Intense? Hot-headed? a handful?”

“-so _closed off_. I mean he is all those other things. But those are surface traits, people take one look at our little blonde tiger and instantly peg him for the irrational uncaring type. Truth is I _know_ he cares, or at least he used to” They move from the abandoned Christmas dinner, settling instead on warm blankets atop the sofa, Yuuri’s feet in Victor’s lap and the latter rubbing circles into aching ankles.

“It's easy to blame upbringing but his childhood was _awful_ , truly awful Yuuri. His Grandfather was the only person who ever cared enough to be in his life and even then he was already old, already sickly. Yura was looking after his Grandpa before he even knew how to look after himself -something I know he still feels responsible for. In his mind, loving or liking someone can only lead to heartache, he gave his parents all his trust only for it to be broken at such a young age. Yura is damaged” Victor's voice shook slightly, the heaviness at his own words weighing down. Yuri’s childhood was not that unlike his own. 

“That’s awful…” Yuuri was fighting tears, thickness welling in his throat _._ His own upbringing had been so different, filled with so much unconditional love. To think that a child could experience anything else felt  _wrong._

“Yurio isn’t one to throw his love around blindly, he learnt far too young how dangerous a game that can be. And then suddenly this kind and _caring_ boy comes crashing into his life, wants to be his friend. You might not have noticed it  _lyublyu,_ but to me it's plain as day. Our little Yurio has a crush”  

Yuuri’s eyes widened, thought’s unable to grasp the idea of the young teen caring about anything more than cat videos and skating. God he didn’t even want to think about the blonde having those sorts of feelings.

“A _crush?_ ” He choked out. 

“Mmh” Victor frowned, tired eyes settling on Yuuri with a deep sigh, fingers weaving their way up Yuuri's leg.

“Victor what can we do?”

“Nothing darling, absolutely nothing. Our little Yurio need’s to figure this out on his own” With nothing else to say on the subject, Victor scooped his husband gracefully onto his lap, lips peppering small warm kisses to blushing cheeks. A small moan of protest left the dark haired man, hands weakly pushing against a hard chest before giving in with a delicate sigh.

 _Yes,_ his Yuuri really was _beautiful._  

* * *

 

* * *

The little grey bubbles were innocent. Same went for his phone. They didn’t deserve the fiery glare being sent their way. Because neither were a certain brunette skater, and therefore his anger was directed at the wrong thing entirely. And yet throwing the stupid device halfway across his marginally messy room gave Yuri an immense sense of satisfaction.

Because staring at Jessie’s messages was not productive.

And yet, the moment the phone was gone, Yuri wanted it back. This ongoing cycle had lasted since he’d awoken yesterday morning half dressed and nursing the mother of all hangovers. Mila had nothing on him. His strangled moan -the alcohol soaked blood pounding delightfully at the back of his skull, had caused a laughing Victor and slightly more worried Yuuri to pop their head in the teen’s room. He’d sent them away with enough colourful language to make a sailor blush. Safe to say after popping far more than the recommended dosage of Aspirin, he’d crashed out the rest of the night. Only to be awoken to a rather too excited Victor dragging him from bed early Christmas morning.

Now, if it had been anything other than Victor’s _damn birthday,_ Yuri would have hid in his room the entire day. He’d tried a half smile for the majority of the day, not caring that it was probably more of a grimace. They’d exchanged gifts, both Christmas and Birthday presents for Victor. The joint Christmas/Birthday meal looked delicious, and any other day Yuri would have demolished every single mouth watering item carefully laid out on the over decorated table. However one grimace at the single remaining gift under the tree had his stomach rolling. Yuri’s heart thumped painfully at the innocently wrapped gift, _signed Jessie._ It was enough to quench his hunger, Christmas dinner left pitfully untouched.

Hence why he now found himself sprawled out among dirty sheets with unwanted tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Fuck he hadn’t even washed today, sweat mixed with a trace of alcohol lingering in the air. And yet Yuri couldn’t find himself to care. Because quite simply, as of right now, Yuri cared far too much about another pressing issue.

An issue with the name Jessie Spencer. Because nothing said issues like seeing your crush’s cock in the mouth of some random guy. Worse yet, it wasn’t the idea of Jessie doing _that_ that upset him, rather the fact he was doing something like _that_ with someone that wasn’t _him._ He, Yuri Plisetsky, who hadn’t even kissed a boy let alone sucked dick.

**_Yet._ **

The fact that even if it were him in that position, he’d of had absolutely no clue on what to do. He wasn’t stupid -or naive, he’d watched enough porn to know _how_ to do a lot of things. But seeing and doing were not one in the same. What if he was no good? What if Jessie with his superior sexual knowledge -and experience apparently, simply laughed at any of Yuri’s advances? The slim to no chance that Jess would want what Yuri wanted weren’t enough to warrant the potential and probably rejection. He’d had enough fucking rejection in his life damn it.

So he’d deny it. It would hurt, because despite his endless efforts -all two days worth, simply trying to will his feelings away wasn’t working. So he’d resolves to just avoid the brunette. Easier said than done, apparently.

_Merry Christmas Kid._

There it was again. That ludicrous nickname that was everything Yuri wished he wasn’t. He wanted Jessie, hell he’d only just accepted the annoying fact himself -only for it to come back and quiet literally _blow up_ in his face. And not just that! Jessie had apparently carried him home like some sort of fucking prince charming. He was no damsel that needed saving. He was strong, he’d always had been. He had to be, life hadn’t given him it easy.

But with Jessie, he didn’t want to be strong, didn’t want to put up the common walls like with every other relationship he had, romantic or not. Those sea blue eyes did something to his resolve and fuck was he weak at the knees for it. Hell he’d be _down_ on his knees for it, worshiping that boy for everything he was worth-

“Yurio?” The voice broke his train of thought -thankfully. Shuffling from the self made nest of dirty clothing and blankets, Yuri sighed tiredly before answering. 

“What do you want piggy?” 

“Ah well- Victor and I are going to bed...” Yuri looked at his clock, rolling his eyes at the time. Those two were going to be doing everything but  _ sleeping.  _ He tugged open the door.  “But I really think you should open this” The gift was held innocently in Yuuri’s hands.

“And why the  _ fuck-”  _ He plucked the offending present from Yuuri’s hands “-would I want this?” The mellow mood from dinner had molded back to anger. The mere sight of the neatly wrapped silver box made Yuri’s skin crawl. 

“It’s polite? He did bring you back here, you could have been harmed…” It was a weak excuse. Victor said not to interfere, but this was a gut feeling. If there was someone who could finally crack the hard exterior of Yuri Plisetsky, Yuuri was going to grab onto them with both hands.

Could have been harmed? God when would people see him as anything but weak. Making a disintreset noise, Yuri rolled his eyes, throwing the offending gift on his bed with a soft thump and slamming the door in Yuuri’s slightly flushed face. Hopefully Victor would be too  _ busy  _ to shout at him for that. 

Giving the silver box some side eye, Yuri decided a nice scalding shower would do him so good. God knows his hair needed a good condition.

Sat precariously on his desk chair, long hair up in a towel, Yuri focused on the black nail polish brush gliding across his right hand, and pointedly  _ not  _ at the gift still on his bed. 

An hour later he moved the bow covered box to his bedside table, finger lingering only momentarily until he shook himself, hands instead gathering the array of clothes and mess scattered across his room. 

Picking up his phone had only entertained him for an extra half hour or so, scrolling through a slightly quiet social media. Settling into bed Yuri reached towards his bedside table, grappling for his charger cable only to grasp firmly onto the least touched object in his room, paper bow digging into his palm teasingly. 

So what if he was avoiding it? Hadn’t he decided that from this moment on Jessie was going to be at the back of his mind? Buried away where it couldn’t hurt him anymore. The safest option would be to throw it away, toss the stupid silver coloured box into the trash and wash his hands of it. Simple really. 

Fuck it.

Despite the tight looking wrapping, the expensive paper shredded easily, and sitting up a little Yuri peered at the black box beneath the paper, gold words elegantly engraved into the glass looking material. 

_ For Yuri. _

It felt expensive as Yuri gently rubbed a single finger along the words, not stuck on but expensive and painstakingly carved into the box. If this was the outside, what the  _ hell  _ was inside? A ribbon worked as a clasp, a simple cream length of silk that fell easily beneath his slightly shaking fingers. Throwing all gentleness to the wind, he opened the lid, only to frown at the contents.

An envelope greeted his eyes. _A Christmas card?_ Picking up the white object he frowned slightly. No not a card -more like a letter, but surprisingly bulky. Why go through the effort of wrapping up a simple letter? The card was thick, again with a feel of luxury and addressed to him, but in a different cursive to that on the box and gift note. The thought that the letter itself was not penned by Jessie crossed his mind.

Unless he opened it, Yuri knew he wouldn’t sleep. It would simply be another thing weighing heavily on his mind, and he really didn’t need to add to that already extensive list. So with a half shrug he flipped the slightly heavier than normal letter, broke the seal and emptied the contents onto his now made up bed. 

A flurry of papers greeted his eyes, and he frowned. One stood out, a stark white double folded letter among a pile of booklets. The Logo was familiar and suddenly Yuri was sitting up a little straighter, eyes a little less tired and mouth hanging in what could only be described as pure shock. The letter was formal, containing plenty of information, mainly people he should contact once  _ he’d made his decision _ -as well as instructing him to read through the leaflets. It was signed off politely, by several people with an eagerness to hear back from him soon, looking forward  _ to working with him. _

One of the biggest sporting brands in the entire  _ fucking world,  _ wanted him, more specifically wanted an ambassador for an extension into winter sports and their aim of introducing new young athletes into their brand.  _ Adidas _ wanted to sponsor,  _ him,  _ Yuri Plisetsky.  Jessie had gifted him an  _ international _ fucking  _ sponsorship  _ with one of his own damn sponsors.

_ All he could think was, why? _

 

* * *

With twenty extra people crammed into the stylish but small space, Mila’s apartment appeared all the more cosy albeit a little too stuffy, in Yuri’s opinion.

Ducking through the already open door, he’s not expecting to be noticed. Music is already thumping through what could easily be confused as a student lodgings and there’s a heavy mix of alcohol lingering in the air. Rocking up two hours late with only two hours remaining till  _ the big time,  _ with a crate of half decent beer hooked under his arm, he’s already expecting the host to be far too busy to notice him shuffle uncomfortably through the throng of people.

“ _ YURI!”  _

Or maybe not.

Except it isn’t a red bombshell staggering his way, uncaringly shoving muttering party goers in her path. It’s Irina, a trail of bouncing brown curls following her near enough sprint in his direction. It takes everything in himself not to dodge Mila’s friend, _ God  _ only knows what she must think of him after the  _ incident.  _

“... _ Hi Irina _ ” She’s close enough now that he can smell the sweet smell of sticky alcohol wafting from her. Not unpleasant, yet the memory has his stomach rolling. Cocktails, as he now knows  _ well,  _ are nobodies friend.

“Don’t  _ Hi Irina _ me cutie, you’re two hours late and I’ve been stuck fifth wheeling the whole time! If someone had told me it was couples night I’d have dragged my last hook up here -although that  _ would  _ be slightly weird for a one night stand-” 

Fifth wheeling? As far as he can see, there are plenty of non couples lining the joint kitchen-dining-living area. If anything it’s a bit of a _cockfest_ , again not something Yuri can see the brunette complaining about. Not something  _ he’s  _ complaining about either.

“Stop complaining you _slut_ ” The voice comes from his right, with both a familiar and unknown face coming into view, bodies shuffling from the crowded kitchen.

“Hey Yuri” 

“Hey Eva -and Eva’s  _ friend?”  _ The woman to the blondes right is a little shorter than the towering woman, kind faced with a healthy colouring to her cheeks. Probably an effect of the red wine clasped in the hand  _ not _ firmly held by Eva, he thinks. Huh, so maybe not a  _ friend _ .

“Girlfriend, actually, but thanks for thinking I’m too good for Eva to have snatched up” Funny too, Yuri can see himself getting on with her well.

“If anyone is pushing, it’s _ you _ babe” 

“Ugh  _ God _ , pass me the sick bag! -actually on second thoughts someone pass me another shot” And with that the shorter woman heads towards the kitchen. 

A change of song over some rather expensive looking speakers has Eva’s girlfriend dragging her towards the small group of dancers further into the lounge with a promise to  _ catch up  _ more later. In other words, once freed from the dancing grasp of her lover, Eva wants the details of their last meeting. More specifically the  _ ending, _ something that Yuri himself has actively been pushing to the back of his mind.

This alone has him shuffling towards the kitchen, freeing a foul tasting beer from its box en route and seeing if Irina wants some company with her shots. Because really, when are shots a  _ bad idea?  _

He doesn’t get the chance to test the theory.

Because now he’s cramped in Mila’s small bathroom -the only bathroom in the tiny rented space, with a long line of desperate party goers banging on the firmly locked door as he stands above their host, listening to the teary eyed redhead spew  _ both  _ physically and emotionally.

“I just don’t get it Yura-” 

_ Cough spit cough _

“Am I just not good enough? He says I’m never there for him but-”

_ Sip some water _

“I can’t help it! Yakov said I have a real chance this season-”

_ Cough spit cough  _

“And it’s so hard to balance a relationship and a career, and he should know that-”

It’s not funny, not really. But if he was to look at this as an outside perspective, as if this was a scene in a TV show and he was the audience, it would be. Mila, the poor girl, spewing her guts up while ranting to him,  _ Yuri Plisetsky,  _ about her relationship problems. She really couldn’t have picked anyone worse for the role of supportive friend. But as it stands, he’d been handed the role, and therefore must continue rubbing the back of his friend  _ despite  _ the hilarity of the situation. 

Deciding they’ve been unfairly occupying the toilet too long -pushing the 30 minutes mark , he pulls up the pretty redhead. 

“Mila, I wouldn’t worry about it, from what I can see he’s just drunk -you _both_ are” Settling her on the porcelain sink he rustles through the overhead cabinet until finding what he’s looking for.

“Plus his friends are here, not sure why you invited them seeing as they’re arses but whatever it’s your New Years party…” 

Trailing off, he steddies the swaying host, dragging a makeup wipe under black rimmed eyes. Really, he can’t blame her. Her boyfriend really was being an idiot. Yuri had only to enter the kitchen briefly- searching for Irina and her infamous vodka shots, to notice a teary eyed Mila going at it,  _ and not in a good way, _ with her boyfriend. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that they argued, neither was it the first time Yuri had wiped away tears caused by the jerk. 

“T-thanks Yura” 

He just smiles, because what are friends for? After swilling her mouth with mouthwash and flushing a rather disgusting looking toilet, he guides the older skater back to the party ignoring the tuts of annoyance from the now considerably longer bathroom queue. Like he gives a fuck.

_ “Mila!”  _

Irina spots them before they do her. She cast s a long look at the slight smear of makeup under the redhead’s eyes but he simple shrugs, a slight shake to his head. If the brunette was to ask, Yuri is pretty sure it’ll set off a fresh wave of tears from their friend. So Irina says the next best thing.

“ **_Who wants to play drinking games!_ ** ”

The crate of beers lasts one game, those not dancing jumping at the chance for competitive drinking, not that Yuri’s complaining. Before long he's necking anything that’s in his line of sight. Their host is long gone, passed out peacefully on one of the several pushed back sofas. Eva and her lover are yet to join them, not that he’s noticed their absence.

Irina,  _ the life of the party _ , has been doing the spectacular job of occupying his mind. Her and several others, namely the Russian Hockey team, have commandeered the kitchen. A rather complex card game evolved into simply daring each other to chug whatever contents they have in their hands, and he can’t decided if hand warmed beer is worse than hand warmed wine. Honestly, warm anything is unpalatable. 

Except the warm hands that keep ghositing his hips. 

Positioned just above his waist on the skin showing between the rugged mom jeans he’s wearing and casual half cut jumper, are a pair of hands that Yuri really can’t find the effort to move. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s not. But either way it’s not a certain dark haired skater and that’s perfectly fine. Anything that’s  _ not  _ Jessie Spencer, is something worth embracing. 

“Never have I ever…. _ fucked in someone else’s bed!” _

The chorus of voices pull his thoughts from the body pressing into his back, voices ringing slightly as the copious amounts of alcohol seem to suddenly his his body all at once. He’d had what? Six, seven beers? A dozen shots and the contents of a few mystery drinks -something he can imagine Victor and Yuuri shouting at him for. But they’re not here, they’re in Japan and therefore, Yuri doesn’t care. 

The collective group, around ten or so in a circle around the central kitchen counter either drink in agreement with the statement -supplied by none other than the now -in his books legendary Irina, or don’t; depending on whether they have or in Yuri’s case  _ have not  _ fucked in someone else’s bed. 

“Fancy changing that?” The breath against his neck is enough to send shivers down his spine.  Turning in the embrace has him looking at a wide chest.  _ Fuck is this guy built.  _ Handsome, light brown hair that sweeps into equally chocolate eyes, the guy is obviously less drunk that Yuri, older too. But still.

Fuck it. He's buzzing enough to feel slightly euphoric.

“I’m game if you are”

“Mhm _obviously_ ” And it is, the guys bulging jeans are a clear testament to that. Dutch Courage coursing through his veins is enough to quell the sudden uncomfortable feeling settling in Yuri’s stomach. 

Hand in hand, the guy - _ Yuri really should ask his name _ , pulls them through the crowd. Yuri’s stagger is more prominent than his partners, but again the red flag is lowered in his brain. He’s single, he can do what and  _ who  _ he wants. He’s almost seventeen for fucks sake, his virginity shouldn’t still be a damn thing! Surprisingly the bedroom is empty, and lockable apparently as Yuri hears the bolt slide once he’s cleared the threshold. Alone together, the sudden quietness seems deafening. He’s more drunk than he thought.

Maybe this  _ wasn’t _ such a good idea.

The tongue invading his mouth is sudden. Enough to make him stumble, back hitting the locked door harshly. Hesitantly he pushes back against the hot muscle, attempting to copy the rather hurried movements of the other man. Not his choice for a first kiss but who is he to be picky? Bruising fingers are back on his hips, but this time their not restricted to the slip of skin showing above his jeans, instead searching higher up the naked skin beneath his sweater. 

With a free hand Yuri unlatches the door. 

“ _ Oww!” _

He allows Yuri to push him away, because with muscles like that if he didn’t want to move, _he wouldn’t_

“ Fuck , are you trying to bite my _fu-ucking lip_ _of-ff_ ” He cringes as his own slur.

“Ah sorry, you’ve just got me all worked up-” Yuri can’t decide whether the guy palming at his dick through his jeans is hot or not. 

Yuri would say the shiver that ran his spine at the slur of the man’s words was out of desire, and not -in fact, disgust. Not that he would have been able to specify one from the other, in his current state. He’s under no illusion that Mila’s bedroom does  _ not  _ in fact usually spin. There’s a heaviness to his limbs and Mila’s bed suddenly looks all the more appealing. Yeah, he just needed to lie down. Just for a minute. 

The multi-coloured double bed is as soft as it looks. Unfortunately sinking into the comfortable bed only aids in the growing haze behind his eyes, vision spinning enough to become unfocused.

“ _ Fuckinhell… _ ” He can’t help the groan. Damn his useless alcohol tolerance.

“Yeah you’re right  _ -fucking hell _ ” The hands are hot and clammy upon his exposed stomach and just like that Yuri is reminded of the other male in the room. The same male he’d invited in.  _ The male that offered to fuck him. _

“Mmmhm, can’t w-we just  _ sle-eeep? _ ” He’s fighting a losing battle with his eyelids.

“But we’re just about to get to the fun part  _ babe” _

Yuri doesn’t even fight the fingers working at his jeans.

* * *

The invitation to Mila’s New Year’s gathering had been a surprise. Sure, they were friendly, hell Jessie was friendly to everyone at the rink. But after the fall out with Yuri, he was pretty sure he’d be hated by association. Still, to begin with he hadn't entertained the thought. Yura would be there, potentially- no definitely, Yura’s friends would be there. He’d be outnumbered.

And yet still, at less than half an hour to twelve, Jessie had found himself awkwardly shuffling through throngs of happily intoxicated people. It hadn’t been the plan. The plan had been to stay in, maybe watch a few movies and feel sorry for himself. Lord knows he’s partied enough New Years away to not miss one. But glancing at Mila’s polite message for the ninth time that night, his plan had fallen through. The roads had been quiet -not surprising, and he’d arrived quickly, hands free of alcohol and reasons for attending still unclear. 

[“You’re Jessie,  _ ah shit _ -wait I know this!”] He’s in the kitchen when he’s first noticed.  [“Spencer! Yeah Jessie Spencer, right? You’re like  _ -super hot _ , like more so in real life”]

[“Ah _-thank you,_ I think?”] The blonde in front of him isn’t who he’s looking for. Although who is he looking for? He tries to ignore the hand now grasping his arm.

“Have you seen Mila recently, I’m uh kinda _ late _ ” 

“Um she’s sleeping?” Her English is less confident yet the swaying woman continues to encroach on his personal space, seemingly undeterred by his disinterest. Why can’t people take a hint? With a charming smile he untangles himself, trying not to shiver in disgust at her wandering fingers. It wouldn’t be the first time. So with a final nod to the now scowling blonde, he heads for the bedroom.

The apartment isn’t big and the amount of people are already making him claustrophobic, hot bodies crammed together and swaying to the loud music. It wouldn’t be surprising if the drunken party goers managed to  _ miss _ the countdown. Spying a door to the right, Jessie decides it’s his best bet for locating the missing red head. Least he say  _ hello _ to his host before dropping out of the party.

Because truthfully, the moment Jessie had walked in he had wanted to leave.

The knock seems pointless, the music too loud to hear a polite knock and yet he still raps his fingers firmly on the shut door. A shuffle of feet against creaky floorboards sounds loudly, followed by a flurry of curses. Male voices. And for whatever reason, he has the urge to investigate further.  Without stopping to think that  _ maybe  _ the occupier(s) of the room may be a couple of drunk party goers fooling around, and that his barging in will embarrass all parties involved, he twists the door handle with urgency, apology already on the tip of his tongue as he peers into the dark room.

It takes half a second for the breath and words to fail on his lips, blown eyes zoning in on the couple on the bed and Jessie realises all of two things. One, some hulking man is grinding himself into Yuri atop Mila’s bed. Two,  _ and more importantly-  _ Yura seems fully unaware of the man slowly working his jeans down.

It takes all of two long powerful strides for him to reach the disgusting human praying on  **_his_ ** _ Yura.  _ Even less time to yank the man from the bed by his collar and have him slammed against the nearest wall, Jessie’s arm crushing painfully against the man’s windpipe.

“What the  _ fuck _ -” The man is struggling beneath Jessie’s arm but he doesn’t care, anger making his entire frame shake “-do you think you’re doing you _ piece of shit!? _ ” 

Clawing at the arm trapping him makes no difference, Jessie’s hold is unmoving [“H-he was  _ asking  _ for i-it”] The man’s answer does little to quell the fire bubbling in Jessie’s chest, instead continuing to coil around his lungs as he takes in just  _ what  _ was happening to Yuri.

His Yura.

Suddenly, taking his anger out on the shaking man before him seems secondary. He needs to check on Yuri. Make sure he’s alright, to see if he’s been - _ dare he say it _ , touched by the filth of the human being choked beneath his own hands.

[“ **_Leave-_ ** ”] He seaths, giving the shocked man a harsh shove to emphasize his point [“ _ -before _ I change my mind”]

Without another care for the other man, Jessie finds himself quickly at Yuri’s side, hesitating a moment before nearing the blondes prone form. Any other situation and the brunette would have said the younger skater looked beautiful. Golden hair shrouding a slightly reddened face, the dim light only catching the lightest shades of blonde, and lips standing plush and inviting. Kiss ridden lips.  _ Unwanted kisses. _

“Mmmh-- _ ah, fuck…”  _ Impossibly green eyes suddenly meet his, but there’s a haziness. If Yuri recognises that he’s there he doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to close his eyes once more and Jessie can’t help zoning in on the thick black lashes fluttering against his rosy cheeks. Yuri is a sight to behold. 

No wonder that guy tried his luck. 

The thought is uncomfortable and he abruptly is reminded why his Yuri is spread like the finest meal a man could ever desire across Mila’s bedsheets, jeans unbuttoned and hanging loose and jumper pulled up enough to expose the milk bottle skin beneath. Yes, he’s painfully reminded as tears sting the back of his eyes, not falling but undeniably present. He cries silently for Yuri. For himself. Because not that long ago, the naive boy being mistreated, misguided and  _ misused;  _ had been him. 

But now’s not the time to be dragging up bad memories that frankly, don’t want to be remembered. He’d got a half dressed passed out  _ minor _ -who shouldn’t be legally drinking let alone fucking smashed, Jessie needs to focus.

“Ugh- h-hey, Yuri I’m just gonna sort your clothes out-- Oi! I’m trying to help you idiot…” 

But Yuri’s having none of it, batting away his hands with a politely put “ _ Fuck off”  _ and a swat of his hand that feels less like a slap and more like a gently tap and now Jessie’s  _ really  _ getting annoyed at the young skater. Damn it he’s trying to help him! But right now all the blonde is interested in is sleeping. Jessie’s not even sure the kid  _ knows  _ whos trying to dress him. Which again, isn’t exactly good.

Jeans now successfully adjusted to acceptable and jumper covering enough skin to stop his own wandering eyes, Jessie sits beside the disorientated teen with a sigh.  _ God-  _ did he ever get this bad? 

Probably- but not on cheap beer and questionably liquors. 

His nearest hand finds its way to Yuri’s flushed face, ice cold compared to the blood flushed skin beneath it and pushing way the several strands covering his still closed eyes Jessie speaks again, a gentle tone. Least he startle the blonde further “You alright kid?” 

And yet at his words, Jessie can physically feel the younger teen freeze despite his still lying position. Until he’s not longer reclined back, instead in one quick movement, far quicker than Jessie thinks is possible for such a drunken state, Yuri is facing him, albeit swaying slightly. 

“....J-Jess” Ah, so  _ now  _ the little tiger has recognised him “Wha-at are y-you doin’ he _ re…” _

_ Saving your ass, _ he thinks to himself. “It doesn’t matter, let’s just get you home”

Which might be a problem, if Jessie’s biggest fear is realised and the young blonde now slightly leaning on him still hates his fucking guts. But in his state, Yuri is getting dragged out of this party one way or another. Jessie would just prefer it to be in an orderly manner and not require throwing the petite blonde across his shoulder. 

“Mm-mm, I  _ can’t  _ go hom _ eeee…”  _ Whatever he’s trying to say sort of trails off into disjointed rambling. But fine, if Yuri can’t go to  _ his  _ home, well then that leaves him with no choice but to lug the lightweight to his studio. 

With a little more coaxing, because Yuri really doesn’t want to leave Mila’s bed, he manages to get them in a position enough to begin moving towards the bedroom door. Yuri’s got his arms wrapped unnecessarily around Jessie’s torso, seeing as he’s supporting the majority of the younger skaters weight, his own arms wrapped protectively around the blonde. Despite Yuri’s jumper riding up beneath his hands, Jessie ignores the warmth that spreads to his stomach and  _ lower _ as his cold hands meet warm skin. Yuri’s just so god  _ damn  _ warm. Squeezing through the throngs of party goers was a hardship while alone, add in the dead weight of Yuri and it’s near enough impossible. 

He feels a slight movement in his arms, but ignores it. They need to get out of here before-

“ **_Ten!”_ **

Before that. Growling in frustration does little to help but fuck can he stop it. Nothing is worse than being around drunk humans except maybe being surrounded by drunk humans while stone cold _ sober. _ _Well fuck,_ this isn’t how he thought his lastest New Years would go -granted Jessie wasn’t sure  _ what  _ he thought would happen but taking an intoxicated Yuri to his studio wasn’t on the top of the list. The weight in his arms shifts again, making it difficult to support him and a flash of annoyance passes. 

_ “...J-Jess..” _ He’s surprised he can hear Yuri’s voice over the crowd counting down. But whatever it is can wait, just  _ wait  _ until they hit the cool fresh air and Jessie can  _ think  _ straight. Because having the blonde wrapped around him has his brain throbbing. 

“ **_Three!”_ **

“ _ Jess....”  _

_ “ _ **_Two!”_ **

“Jessie ple- _ ease” _

Apparently it can’t wait and with a roll of his eyes he peers down at the bundle of blonde in his arms. “Yura?” Big green eyes sparkle in the party lights and Jessie sucks in a breath because this boy is beautiful and in his arms looking at Jessie like he’s the fucking sun.

**_“One!_ ** _ Happy New year! _ **”**

And then it happens, and despite what he might say later, Jessie doesn’t fight back. The chime of a New Year rings with Yuri pulling him down into a searing kiss, and suddenly Jessie is sharing in the impossible warmth that is Yura, so tempting he doesn’t even fight any other urge than to sink into its welcoming arms. Because as the other party goers share in similar delight, all Jessie can focus on is the small blonde clumsily kissing him, drawing him in like a month to a flame.

And like a dying man to water, he kisses him back with all the urge of a man with nothing left to lose.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's soooo long! and kinda rushed at the end. Up next: shameless smut


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Getting to do the do (kinda)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight Dubcon? Always a tricky one but the warnings there anyways!

* * *

For someone no more that 5’4 and 110 pounds dripping wet, the small blonde giggling in his arms is surprisingly heavy and hard to maneuver. Not that Yuri is aware that Jessie is struggling to carry him through his apartment door. So while holding open the heavy industrial door and simultaneously balancing the teen in his arms it's unsurprising when Jessie _barely_ catches himself as they stumble into the dark open plan room. It’s the same as he left it. Laptop now on standby, empty mugs scattering his coffee table, the smell of chinese takeout wafting from the kitchen counter and his bed still unmade.

_“Ahhh, Jessie_ ….” Right, his place isn’t the same as he left it earlier.

Because earlier there wasn’t a tiny blonde bundle of drunkenness making highly distracting noises. If Yuri keeps moaning his name like that he’s not sure what’ll happen and _God,_ he’s still blushing from their midnight kiss. Even though it was the small skater that kissed  _him,_ he feels guilty. Still, it seems Yuri is set on continuing whatever _that_ had been. Jessie can't decide if he's in Heaven or Hell.

“Yura…” The blonde snaps his head in his direction and Jessie fights the urge to simply stare into his green orbs, “I’ve got some clothes you can borrow.”

“-Yours _?_ ” His words are said with a confused frown, light eyebrows pulled down adorably.

He hums, “Yeah, although I don’t think I have much that’ll fit you but those jeans don’t look comfortable and - _Woah!_ Yura! Don’t get undressed _here-”_ He gives up when all he receives is a another blank look from the younger teen. Probably best he gets the kid something to wear, least he wander around his apartment half dressed. The thought doesn’t actually disgust him -Yuri naked in his apartment, and that alone has him shaking himself quickly. He need’s to get his mind out of the gutter because not only is Yuri _excessively_ drunk but he’s also a _minor,_ if only by a couple months and-

Bare arms wrap around his midsection.

“ _Jessie_ I’m c _-cold_ ” the words are muttered into his upper back, the pair of lips he was devouring not long ago now pressing delicately against his spin. Testing his control, Yuri was _really_ testing his control.

“Yeah well that happen when you strip off in the middle of winter in a half heated room, look here-” He grabs the nearest discarded T-shirt, an oversized top that will definitely dwarf the teen “-put this on before you catch a death, last thing I need is Victor and Yuri biting my head off because you catch the flu.”

Yuri makes no move to get dressed so with a groan of frustration and a roll of his eyes, Jessie motions for the latter to lift his arms, fighting the urge to gaze at the expanse of soft white skin before tugging the top over Yuri’s head. He’d thought right, the top is so large it almost slips off Yuri’s delicate shoulders, exposing sharp collar bones. Sweatpants would be useless too, so with a sigh he decides the T shirt just ghosting the tops of Yura’s thighs will have to do.

Detangling himself from Yuri is harder than he thought. Because the teen seems unrelenting as he wraps himself around the older skater, hot skin ghosting across Jessie’s considerably cooler flesh. When a well placed hand begins to drift up his shirt, Jessie flinches, distancing himself. Ignoring the whine that leaves Yuri’s lips, he heads towards the kitchen. Because what the teen needs right now, is a coffee. A _strong_ coffee.

But then he remembers the blonde only has ridiculously sweet coffee, and never without some sort of whipped cream or syrup and all he’s got is the instant shit (because he prefers tea) so settles for a bottle of water.

He throws it at Yuri with little warning, “Yura -catch!” not surprised when the blonde misses the cool bottle entirely.

“ _Jesssss…_ ” There it is again, Yura whining his name like a prayer. Once in his own pyjamas -sweatpants with a thin T shirt, and after the the drunk teen has managed three quarters of the bottle, Jessie finally lets out a breath as he sits a _respectable_ distance from the teen. 

Except it’s not a respectable distance for long.

“Y- _yuri_  what are you d-doing?” Yuri’s breath on his exposed neck has him scrambling for a coherent thought “ _Please_ go to sleep, you’re gonna have a hell of a hangover in the morning” Not that any amount of sleep is gonna stop the inevitable happening. Yuri's head is going to be throbbing more than Jessie's current hard on. 

“ _Mmmhm-_ you’re _so_ hot” He hadn’t bothered to fix the lights, yet his view is full of tantalisingly exposed skin. Yuri's  _way_ too fucking close for Jessie to be able to think straight. This needs to stop now.

“Yeah and you’re drunk, gorgeous” He stands up. The more distance the better “You need to _sleep.”_ He emphasises it with a gentle push to the teens shoulders, trying to get him to lie down from his crossed legs position. He doesn’t budge, instead shuffling closer to Jessie's now standing form until he’s forced to stare upwards at the brunette, wide blown eyes that are a little less hazy now gazing up at him innocently and yet Jessie's thoughts are anything but.

“Why _are_ you here anyways? Victor and Yuuri don’t know you’re drinking, is that it?”

“No they’re in _-uh,_ Japan? _Mmmh-_ visiting family” Doesn’t explain why he _can’t_ go home, but sensing he’ll get little more out of the tiny skater he moves on, second question poised on the tip of his tongue _-why did you kiss me?_  He doesn’t even get to utter the first word before he’s thrown another curveball, breath catching in his throat.

In one swift move Yuri has his fingers locked in the tops of Jessie’s sweatpants, pulling him flush to his face. “ _Fuck_ Yura, stop that! _Hey_ let go-” yet he doesn’t and looking down Jessie has to bite back a moan.

The view is sinful. Deep vibrant eyes looking back at his own dark gaze, and with Yuri’s fingers still pulling taunt on the waistband of his trousers, he can see his own length hardening in his boxers, his cock already leaking. He’s been semi-hard since leaving Mila’s.

“I _want_ it…” Jessie tries not to falter on what  _it_ is. This needs to stop. Yuri is drunk, arguably less drunk than an hour ago, but still not drunk enough to make _this_ ok. Hell even if he _wasn’t_ drunk, it still wouldn’t be ok.

“Yura you don’t want this, just think if you were sober you probably wouldn’t even want to be in the same room as me- _”_

_“_ But I _d-_ ** _do_ ** _!_ Just let me, _please”_

“Let you do what?” He has a pretty good idea. And even as Yuri sounds less drunk and more like his assertive self, he’s not giving in. _He can’t._ Or he can, be he really shouldn’t. But then nimble fingers are palming at him so gently that he can't help thrusting into the touch, searching for more pressure. Yuri ignores him, ignores his splutters of disapproval as he kneels closer, breath ghosting across the prominent tent in Jessie's sweatpants. 

“ _Yura…”_

“Jess, it’s _fine_ ” Yuri smiles “besides you’re already _hard for me_ ” and rubs at Jessie's clothed cock.

“Yeah and who’s fault is that?” He's breathless and blushing profusely. Yuri is determined, and without a word he’s got the grey material bunched around Jessie’s ankles.

Jessie’s white boxers leave nothing to the imagination.

Yuri reaches out a tentative hand, encircling Jessie’s clothed length. The air leaves the other boys lungs at the soft touch, and while eager, the blonde still seems hesitant. He’d said he _wasn’t_ a virgin, but Jessie is starting to doubt it. But then Yuri is yanking down the dampened fabric, exposing Jessie’s dripping cock to the slightly too cold air of the apartment and all thoughts leave him.

“Stop acting like you don’t want this” He’s right, of course. Jessie wouldn’t be _nearly_ as hard if he wasn’t interested. But mind and body are two separate entities. Any argument freezes on his tongue when pale hands gently caress the underside of his length, an uncontrollable shudder running down his spine. Yuri glides a finger from base to tip, watching Jessie’s every response and realising the brunettes shudders more as he encircles the head, thumb rubbing at the leaking tip. “It feels good right?”

It does, _really does_. Doesn't mean it's right. 

With a prolonged groan, Jessie gives into what his body is already responding to and tangles his hands into long hair, encouraging Yuri further as he increases his movements, hand now pumping him at a leisurely pace that’s just slightly below fulfilling. He really shouldn’t ask for more, this is already bad, but the sensation has him panting and wanting.

But it seems he doesn’t have to. Because Yuri takes his reddening length deep in one go. Clumsily. And expectantly -Jessie isn’t exactly _small,_ he chokes. Jessie’s cock grazes the back of his throat while the man towering above him groans at the sudden warm sensation. He watches as Yuri chokes, arousal swirling deep in his stomach at the sight.  _So_ very sinful. 

“Hey, Yura stop, don’t hurt yourself _ah-”_

Yuri slips the pulsing cock from his mouth -not all the way but enough to stop his eyes watering, as he begins to bob around the top half of Jessie’s cock. It’s easier to use his tongue like this, sweeping the warm muscle across the teen’s slit enough to elicit a groaning response. Jessie watches it all. Watches Yuri’s reddened lips as they wrap around his member, meets the determined green gaze as it stares back at him. If Jessie thought the tiny skater was beautiful any other time, then he was an absolute _God_ when he was on his knees before him. What he lacked in skill he made up for in clear enthusiasm, enough to make Jessie's toes curl.

Yuri added a hand to the neglected base, and the older teen could feel his eyes roll into the back of his head because _fuck -_ Yuri was good at this, fucking gifted. Especially when he sucks hard enough to hollow out his cheeks and Jessie can’t stop the automatic thrust of his hips.

“ _Fuck!_ Shit I’m sorry Yura-” He pulls back slightly, enough for his cock to fall from Yuri’s lips, the pulsing shaft slapping against his cheek as the teen looks up at him with tear stained eyes and he thinks _maybe_ it’s too much for the tiny teen. 

“Don’t be-” Yuri mummers, precum and saliva leaking down his chin “ _-_ I want it, _please_ ”

Jessie doesn’t even have time to think over Yuri’s words, because the teen is eagerly sucking him back in and Jessie can only hold onto Yuri’s delicate shoulders for dear life. He gives a hesitant thrust -controlled, and Yuri hums, sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. He struggles to keep in the moans then, fingers itching to push Yuri deeper on his length. Instead he continues to thrust in time with Yuri’s mouth, slowing working himself deeper and Yuri complies, moaning around the pulsing shaft.

He can tell the others jaw is hurting, because now instead of eagerly sucking his cock, Yuri is staring up at him with a lax jaw, while Jessie simply continues to fuck his face. And _shit_ -he’s close, embarrassingly close.

“Yura _-fuck-_ I’m g-gonna cum _,_ you need to _s-stop”_ Yuri doesn't. The hand working at Jessie’s base increasing in pace, wrist twisting in time with his mouth as he begins to meet Jessie’s thrust one for one. The words tumbling from his mouth are a jumbled onslaught of _Yura_  and _fuck_ _,_ because he’s close and Yuri is distressingly good at this and-

“ _Fuck-”_ He feels the rush, the tightening of his balls and with maybe a little too much strength, shoves Yuri’s mouth off him “ _-I’m coming._ ” Yet the blonde is still pumping him.

Eyes closed and head thrown back, he cums.

Yuri milks Jessie for everything as his hips shudder with aftershocks, the deep pleasure running the entire length of his body and deep moans stuttering from his lips. Only when the touch becomes too much -too sensitive, does he push the teasing hand away, eyes finally settling on the teen keeled below him.

His eyes widen “Damn it _-shit,_ I’m so sorry-” and he pulls off his T-shirt, hastily rubbing at the blondes face “-you should have moved idiot!” Yuri simply stares up at him as Jessie rubs the strings of pearly cum from his face, as well as the other bodily liquids trickling down his chin.

Still staring at him, Yuri smiles and Jessie freezes, eyes flickering over Yuri’s form with a frown. The kid looks tired now -sated almost, with emerald eyes half closed. Jessie can’t decided if it would be better or worse to offer to get Yuri off, but if the blonde is aroused he doesn’t voice it. Instead with surprising strength he shuffles up the bed, pulling a dazed Jessie to his knees with him.

“Yura, hey, let go. I’m gonna sleep on the sofa so you just stay here-”

“Mmmh, _stay...”_ Yuri's got the duvet over them now, easily tugging the warm blanket over their forms. He’s stuck, a mess of blonde hair fanned across his chest and a milky leg pinning him to the bed. If anything, he wouldn’t have taken Yuri for a _Cuddler._

_“_ Warm…” The words are muttered into his chest, a slight sleepy tone to them and before long the teen snuggling into his warmth is breathing equally, chest rising gently against his side. He wraps an arm around him, pulling his body impossibly closer and enjoying as the blonde snuggles in further. This is what he wanted? _Right?_ Yet now with the kid wrapped up in his arms, Jessie's left with nothing but his mind to keep him company. And now sated, guilt trickles in ten fold. How could he be so fucking _weak_? Yura was  _off limits,_ period. That included giving into any advances from the delicate teen. He was the adult, not Yuri. He was sober, not Yuri. He should of said no. And no amount of smouldering green eyes should have swayed his judgment.

"Fuck Yura, _what am I going to do_?" The words are whispered, no response coming from his sleeping companion.

Despite how right it feels, Yura held tight in his embrace, he struggles to find sleep.

* * *

Waking up to late morning sun rays blinding his vision, it took nearly a full minute for Yuri to realize this _wasn’t_ his bed. Confused bliss suddenly turned to horror, and not from any sort of realisation. No, the horror was the sudden and quickly worsening behind his eyes, the nausea and the thumping of his head that reminded him just how hard he’d gone last night-

Fuck- _last night._

“Ah you’re alive, I was worrying for a hot minute you weren’t going to wake up”

Stood awkwardly, in dangerously low hanging sweatpants (that looked oddly familiar) and a steaming mug in his hand, was the one person he'd been trying to avoid. Messy bed head and all. Queue word vomit.

“Did we sleep together last night?”

Jessie spluttered, cheeks heating, “No! Well yes we did _sleep_ together, but just that! - _well_ actually that’s not entirely true… but seriously we only slept, you’re a bit of a cuddler you know” Yuri was too distracted by the older teens stumbling to acknowledge the words leaving the brunettes lips. Him, a cuddler? No fucking chance.

“There’s no way I snuggled up to you last night, must have been you snuggling up to _me -_ and also, why the fuck am I in your apartment…” Sitting up did little for his stomach but Yuri really needed to get a handle on this situation _-and quickly._ Yet the change in rotation, while relatively small, had Yuri’s head spinning. And his stomach rolling.

Jessie merly raised an eyebrow as the blonde teen rocketed across the room, small body hurtling towards the small bathroom with urgency and he called out tentatively only to receive a quiet _fuck off_ from then teen -followed by some delightful retching.

Yuri was quickly reminded why he didn’t drink. And yet as he sat kneeled before the white porcelain, a groan that had nothing to do with his heaving filled the room. Like his vomit, memories suddenly overflowed in his mind as a heavy weight of dread settled in his stomach. _Fuck,_ had he really done _that_ last night? He couldn’t even blame Jessie! He’d thrown himself at the older skater, begging like a horny teen -which arguably he _is_. Not that he was the king of subtle but _God,_ really? Drunk Yuri really didn’t make it easy for sober Yuri.

Despite the big hole in his memory from last night, he could recall in  _delightful_ HD sucking on Jessie's cock.

“Yura, you alright in there?” Thankfully Jessie was still outside, although Yuri wasn’t sure what remained of his dignity at this point, if any at all. After what he hoped was the last of his vomit hit the toilet, Yuri turned to the closed door resting his face on the cool porcelain, shivers wracking is body.

“Just _peachy_ Jess, never felt better in my whole fucking life!” Silence followed and he wondered if Jessie had left him to wallow in self pity.

“We should talk-” Evidently not “-plus it’s freezing in there.” He was right, of course. Yuri was freezing his ass off, the concrete flooring unforgiving in the now _January_ cold. And despite how much he _didn’t_ want to face Jessie, the clothes he assumed were the brunettes were doing little to regulate his body heat. “Fine, but I get to ask the questions”

Once back in the living area, perched on Jessie’s couch with disgustingly plain coffee in hand and the man in question sat opposite on the unmade bed sheets, Yuri hit a mind blank. Jessie sat waiting, true to his word of letting Yuri lead the questions. Yet he didn’t know where to start.

“Why the Christmas present?” The question caught them both off guard.

Jessie looked shocked, shaking his head. “Really? That’s what you’re asking about _first?”_

“Are you gonna fucking answer or not asshole?” He didn’t want to sound so childish, but the question _had_ been bothering him since he’d opened that stupid silver wrapped gift.

“What about it, you said you’ve been struggling for international sponsorships, and it was within my means. That’s what friends do Yura” _Friends,_ right.

“I’m not a charity case”

“It wasn’t charity, it was a gift but if you’re really unhappy with it you can simply refuse the offer-”

“ **_No!_ ** ” Jessie paused and Yuri hoped the heat to his cheeks was invisible, “I mean it’s fucking incredible, most skaters are sponsored by some tiny international company for some sort of weird shampoo or some shit and I mean - _Adidas,_ it’s a big deal…”

Jessie smiled at that, “Well you _are_ a big deal kid.” Yuri wanted to press more on the issue, Lord knows he had about a hundred questions but he moved on. He was yet to even accept the offer.

“Why were you at Mila’s?” Yuri sipped at his drink, it was bland, but it would do. 

“Ah that’s an easy one, she text me about” Mila had Jessie’s number? He’d file that away for later questioning with the red head, “I almost wasn’t going to come, rocked up about half eleven and then I found you…” the easiness left Jessie’s shoulders and Yuri frowned.

“Found me what?”

“You don’t remember” Jessie's tone didn’t sit well with Yuri.

“Fucking remember what _shit-head?”_ Ah, there goes their calm conversation.

The older skater hesitated, eyes clouding slightly as he frowned, “I found you close to passed out with some scumbag trying to get into your pants. Yura I saw fucking _red_. If I wasn't so worried about you I would have beat the shit out of him then and there, nearly did the poor guy damn near shat himself” _Trying,_ someone had tried to assault him. And Jess had stopped them. It wouldn’t be the first time Yuri had been groped, but while near enough unconscious? That was a new one. He suddenly wanted a very _very_ hot shower. Yet Jessie had supposedly stopped the man,  _protected_ him and only held in his anger to make sure he was alright. Yuri wasn't some damsel in distress but _fuck_  -the idea of Jessie, protective and possessive? That had his pupils dilating and pulse quickening. 

“D-do you not remember anything from last night?” The anger had gone while he'd been distracted, Jessie’s tone now sounded worried. It took a second before realisation hit and he cleared his less than innocent thoughts.

“I remember blowing you, if that’s what you’re stressing about” Nope, Yuri really wasn’t the king of subtle. Jessie choked mid gulp. Yuri smirked at the spluttering skater. If he acted nonchalant then maybe Jessie wouldn’t know he was equally freaking out.

“You have a vulgar mouth” Jessie said with a scowl after catching his breath.

“Well you weren’t complaining about my mouth _last night”_ Queue another round of excessive blushing from the brunette and Yuri could _really_ get used to this side of Jessie. Awkwardness and all. “But to ease your mind, I remember just about everything from the moment I walked - _no_ , stumbled my drunk ass into your apartment.”

Yuri thought the words would ease Jessie, and they did, before a strange look covered the older skaters face. “Look chill, it probably won’t be the first New Years countdown I’m going to miss -aren’t you like, famous for partying hard on New Years?” His joke falls a little flat, Jessie only half smiling at his words.

“Yeah I guess, don't worry about it” 

“Same goes for what happened, seriously Jess it’s not the first drunken blowjob I’ve given” _Nonchalance is key_ , or at least it should be as Yuri repeats the mantra in his head.

“...Right?” Again, not quite the reaction he was after. But he’d take slight awkwardness and friendship over confessing his true feelings and rejection.

“So we’re cool, friends?” Is that an acceptable thing to say after sucking your crushes cock? Probably not. But there isn’t exactly a manual for this. Lord knows that if there _was_ , Yuri would buy two dozen.

“I thought you hated my guts. Yura I’m not going to lie, I’m getting emotional whiplash right now" As if he could forget. When had blowjobs become such a problem in his life. Problem blowjobs, to be specific. Because he suddenly remembers not a week ago, Jessie had his dick in another guys mouth and that Jessie  _isn't his_. Despite how much he wishes that were true.

But this is what he wanted right? His unrequited love was going to _stay_ unrequited and staying _away_ from Jessie wasn’t going to happen, no matter how much he argued with himself. They just needed to go back to how things were. Carpooling and Morning coffees. He could do this.

“If you’re talking about what I saw in that club, don’t sweat it because I don’t care. I was just sick from all the alcohol so I was hardly on my phone the following days and as for last night… just file it under drunk Yuri making an ass of himself” Yuri could almost taste the bullshit as it flew from his mouth. Yet Jessie seemed to consider it.

“Hmm, -if you say so…”

“I do! So like seriously, _forget it-_ ” _Please_ “-anyways how you feeling about Euros? It’s soon, like really soon” _Please just drop it_ , Yuri begged with his eyes. Jessie regarded him for a moment, dark shapely brows pulled into a frown and eyes flickering across Yuri’s face. If he didn’t believe him -which Yuri doubted he did, he didn’t push it.

_For now._

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler.

 

_ “ _ To your win! Mr _ Big _ come back.” The clink of wine glasses rang quietly in the bustling restaurant, nobody except those who knew them paying attention to the two handsome men seated near the fogging window. It was cold outside, temperature fluttering around freezing, but Stockholm was no Moscow in comparison.

Jessie smiled warmly, pulling back his own glass to take a sip of the cool liquid. “Don’t sell yourself short, bronze isn’t anything to scoff at.” At this Chris smiled brightly, freehand pushing at the round-framed glasses on his nose. Jessie thought they were cute, even if the Swissman didn’t. 

“And neither is first place, Gold always does look good around that slender neck of yours...” Cheeks flushed with celebratory drinks, Chris smirked over his glass, eyes only flickering away as their food arrived. 

“Thank you.” Jessie grabbed the plate from the waitress, the mousy woman fumbling slightly as her gaze flickered between both men, a look of recognition on her face before she rushed away. Jessie rolled his eyes.“Why do you do that?” 

With a look of innocence, Chris began to pick at the shared platter, cheesy nachos and dips. “Do what?” 

“You know exactly what  _ Christophe,  _ you should come with a fucking warning.”

“How’d you know she was blushing at me? You’re an absolute delicious feast for the eyes my friend” Jessie scooped up some salsa.

Jessie grabbed his wine glass once more. “Are you flirting with me?”

“ _ Always _ ” 

He simply shook his head, putting aside conversation to focus on the mountain of sloppy cheese. Skipping the mandatory champion banquet had been hard, giving Yakov the slip even harder, but fuck if he was going to sit through more pointless conversation and nosy reporters. They were like fucking pariahs, biting for the next story. Maybe if they were inclined to discuss his skating rather than his sex life he’d give them the time of day. 

“So what about that new guy huh? The Spanish one? Real cute.” 

“Yeah and real talented too,  _ stop thinking with your cock _ , Giacometti you’re probably old enough to be his father,” Jessie smirked, waiting for the reaction to follow.

Chris gaped dramatically never one to let down, a number of eyes turning their way. “You wound me, Jess, absolutely wound me!” 

“Don’t worry, for thirty-nine you look wonderful...” Jessie ducked the well-thrown napkin, the wine hitting him enough to laugh carefree of the eyes turned their way. 

“Alexander Fernandez, that’s the kid’s name.” 

“Well, he seems young and eager, gifted too…”  Chris smirked, “Talking of young and eager, how is  _ your _ fiery Russian fairy?” 

“He’s not mine” Jessie cringed, words coming a little too quickly. Chris noticed, head cocking to the side as he hid his smile behind his wine glass. “But shit Chris, I think I’m losing my head.”

“Hmm-” Chris tapped his temple in thought “-childhood crush no longer so innocent?”  _ God _ , he needed something stronger than wine. “What happened?"

“How’d you know something happened?” 

“Because I know  _ you _ and  _ you _ don’t lose your head at anything, well anything that’s not Yuri Plisetsky” 

“We -ah, we kissed” Chris squealed loud enough for Jessie to cringe, head ducking as more eyes turned their way. “Fuck! Chris shut up, will you? He doesn’t remember it, fuck Chris he doesn’t  _ remember.”  _

With a promise to remain quiet, Jessie quickly spouted the shortest version of it, flushing when the blonde demanded every detail. He simply shook his head. He did have some sense of pride -and respect for Yuri, the kid had practically begged him to forget it. As if he fucking could. Three glasses of wine and a questionable shot of amber liquid later, Chris finally wrapped his head around it. 

“Technically he’s not _underage_ …” 

“Chris, that doesn’t make me feel even an inch better. The point is, even if Yuri hadn’t told me to forget about it, I would of. He’s too young  _ -hey _ , don’t give me that look! And he’s so  _ clean,  _ the last thing he needs is someone like me fucking up his life” 

“Yeah, I mean what teenager doesn’t want a rich international model chasing his tail?” Chris deadpanned but Jessie simply frowned, looking away. That wasn’t what he meant.

“I slipped up Chris.” In an instant, the Swiss skater morphed into concern but Jessie waved him off, “Please believe me when I say it was minor, but either way I’m not someone who should be around a sixteen-year-old kid, let alone lusting after one.”

“Oh Jessie, I’m so sorry my friend, I should have asked…”

Jessie waves him off. “Please, we don’t see enough of each other to dim the mood with my, ah,  _ problems.”  _ They stare at one another, Jessie with a pleading look enough to silence anymore probing from the blonde. Chris looks away, defeated, motioning for the bill. 

Arm around Jessie’s shoulder, the pair leave the cosy restaurant. The night is young, the freezing air biting at their cheeks respectively as they head towards nowhere in particular, simply enjoying the company.

“Jess…” Chris speaks softly and Jessie raises an eyebrow, “You said, he’s  _ so clean,  _ when you talked about Yuri as if you’re somehow dirty?”

Jessie blows out a breath, breath crystallizing in the night air. “Baggage, Chris, I have so much fucking baggage that some  _ kid _ shouldn’t have to carry, let alone even know about.”

They’re facing each other now, but Jessie’s mind is elsewhere. 

Chris tries to draw him back, “So you’ve got daddy issues, you wouldn’t be the only one.” 

Jessie scoffs, “Yeah, and Mommy issues, and drug issues and fucking life issues! Everyone thinks I have my shit together just because I’m not having a bloody mental breakdown daily. There’s this person -this act, that everyone expects me to play. I can’t breathe because I have to be  _ the _ Jessie Spencer. Sure, Yura has a fiery reputation but it’s a shadow in the fucking wind compared to the  _ shit _ reporters say about me. I’m not tainting him before he’s even had a chance to flower”

Chris knows Jessie doesn’t want sympathy, so wipes the pity from his face swiftly. “Since when did other people’s opinions both you?”

“They don’t, but Yuri’s not as tough as he puts out. If I actually let myself be happy then we’d both be run into the dirt. People love something to love, but they also love something to hate.”

“So you’re admitting that being with that grumpy little Russian cat would make you happy?” 

He scowls as his friend, then pushes the Swiss Man's shoulder with annoyance. Trust Chris to worm his own words into Jessie’s mouth. “Pushing you into that freezing river would make me happy.” 

Chris laughs, “Hm, whatever you say Jess.”   
  


* * *

 

_ Model and recent European figure skating champion Jessie Spencer (see right) seen cuddling up with older fellow skater and bronze medalist Christophe Giacometti (See left). Newest lover for the English Playboy? Read more below. _

Yuri scoffs, tossing a handful of chocolate into his mouth and ignoring the look of disapproval from Katsudon.

“Stop comfort eating Yurio” Victor chirps up from the kitchen, fluttering about after his husband as the two prepare brunch.

“Fuck off old man-” Yuri frowned at his phone “- I'm not comforted eating.”

Muttered argument filters from the kitchen before Victor pipes up. “So why the frowny face kitten?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Scowling, Yuri leaves his phone, sock covered feet sliding across the wooden floor towards the central kitchen island. Victor and Yuuri really were disgustingly cute, the pair fluttering around each other as if unable to be without one another. Victor truly was useless in the kitchen but it appeased the silver-haired legend to act as if he were helping. Yuuri didn’t let him near the knives. Or the oven. Or anything potentially non-Victor proof.

“So, what do you think of it?” Victor leaned against the central counter, green tea in one hand and the other running through his hair.

“Whatever Jess gets up to in his own time is his business, Giacometti can go fuck himself” Yuri blows his hair in annoyance, snatching a slice of toast from the counter in the process.

“Yurio!  _ L-Language _ ” Yuuri stutters. Yuri’s response of  _ fuck you too  _ is swiftly cut off with an icy glare from the older Russian. Instead, he simply glares at the hard marble work surface.

“I was actually talking about Mr Spencer’s performance, now the European gold medalist and all…” 

“I would have won if Yakov had let me fucking compete -instead of using the bullshit excuse I wasn’t ready! The fuck does he mean not ready…” He whispered the last part to himself with a frown. He needs the money,  _ hell, _ he needed the money like -a month ago. Hospital bills don’t pay themselves and he’d rather burn his favourite hoodie than ask Victor or Yuuri. 

Georgi had gone instead, and unsurprisingly not placed top 3. A waste, truly. Yuri would have wiped the floor. Jessie included.

“I thought Chris had a boyfriend, right Victor?” Yuuri has his back to them, “Yeah I’m pretty sure they sent us a joint wedding gift, that lovely fur throw? The grey one?”

Yuri ignores the jolt in his stomach, refusing to identify it as relief. “Yeah well, he and Jessie looked pretty cosy for just friends.”

It’s Victor’s turn to scoff, eyes rolling at the blonde. “Christophe is  _ cosy _ with  _ everyone,  _ kitten.” He has a point. 

Katsudon agrees, “Anything Jessie does is a story, poor guy has spent the last two years having his life under a microscope”

Yuri hums, “Yeah well he looked like he hated _ every minute of it.”  _

They’re now collectively sat at the counter, Yuri and Victor grabbing a plate as Yuuri turns to them, eggs and bacon in hand, a change from the strange Russian-Japanese mixed cuisine the dark haired skater pumps out. Yuri isn’t complaining. After a few mouthfuls, Victor pipes up with a frown.

“Maybe you don’t get it, and I can’t blame you -Yakov and Lilia have done a wonderful job of keeping you relatively sheltered. I wasn’t so lucky Kitten. Had to learn from a young age that people love to see you do well just as much as they want to see you fail. Sex and scandal sell, reporters latch onto anything and run with it. The Jessie Spencer people idolise is probably far from the real deal. I mean take me, am I the person the papers say I am, Yurio?” 

_ No,  _ Yuri thought. Victor was untouchable, held himself with a grace that he used to idolise. Or he is when in the public eye. Hell, nobody would guess how much of a loser he really was, dog loving Yuuri loving loser. 

And Jessie, what was Jessie? Sex symbol -that was a given, perfectionist playboy? That too. Untouchable almost. And yet Yuri knew different. 

He knew the brunette liked cringy 80’s remixes, that he prefers tea over coffee , that despite appearances, Jessie was pretty down to earth -not some aloof celebrity, spending money like it’s nothing. Which he could, Yuri realises. Yeah  _ sure _ , Jessie drives a nice car and has enough cash to fix all of Yuri’s money problems ten times over, but he never flaunts it -except when he  _ insists _ that he pay during their now regular morning coffee stops. Yuri always puts up only half a battle, because money is tight and maybe it  _ is  _ nice to grab coffee more than his usual twice a week limit.  

Yuuri’s cheeks are stuffed as he turns to him, “What’s the sudden interest in Jessie? Is this about what happened while Victor and I were Hasetsu?” Eyes flicking between Yuri and Victor.

Yuri looks away. They’d known something was up the moment Jessie had pulled up outside the house, questions in their eyes. Because yes, Jess was giving him lifts again, after Yuri had explicitly said he  _ hated  _ the skater not two weeks before. _Well, shit changes and no, he didn’t have to explain it._

_ Because then he’d have to face it himself.  _

“Nothing happened while you guys went away, alright? We just made up -we’re friends okay? Stop bothering me about it, you’re not my  _ parents.”  _ Victor flinches at his words and Yuri instantly feels guilty. 

“You’re right, we’re not.” Yuri doesn’t expect Victor’s words to hurt, but they do. “But stop taking out your frustrations with Jessie on us, neither Yuuri or I deserve it.”

  
“Frustra - _ what? _ We’re friends, just drop it would you?” With that, he grabs his plate, moving elsewhere, where perhaps he can eat breakfast without an interrogation.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this written for a while, kinda not finished but I've lost motivation for this story.


End file.
